


Unnamed Story

by RoamingFirefly



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Corporal Punishment, M/M, More tags may...actually very likely WILL be added as the story goes on, Multi, Public Sex, Sibling Incest, Slavery, Threesome, Torture, Very Public Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 91,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamingFirefly/pseuds/RoamingFirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth has been resurrected. ...Again. This time however, he gets caught up in the aftermath of the Deepground/Omega shenanigans and ends up in Hell...on a slave ship...along with a certain ex-Turk...plus other familiar faces. Vincent x Sephiroth. Yaoi. Some cameos from characters from other anime and video games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Fallen Angel

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** This is set just after Dirge of Cerberus. I've always thought of the spin-offs of FFVII as both a blessing and a curse on fanfic writers. On the one hand they gave us a lot more characters and ideas to work with, on the other they filled up a lot of the gaps that had once been free hunting grounds for creativity. So expect me to shamelessly take plenty of creative license on those.
> 
> Also, English is not my first language, and verb tenses will be my eternal enemy DX
> 
> Anyways, enough with the babbling and on with the disclaimer and warnings! ...And then the story.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Square Enix owns all their stuff, which includes all things Final Fantasy VII. Cross-over characters are owned by their own respective owners. To avoid spoiling, I will give more detailed disclaimers on those at the end of the chapters in which their names are revealed. I own nothing but my own stuff and make no money from this story whatsoever.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Violence, eventual yaoi (male x male relationships/physical intimacy), threesomes and other naughty stuff. You have been warned.

Prologue - Fallen Angel

 

The silver warrior raged. He was fighting a losing battle, he knew that. But his stubborn heart refused to give up, not just like that. Not again. All around him, above him, behind him, _inside_ him, _she_ cooed, whispered and wrapped her tendrils around him and _through_ him. About them the green life force of the planet pulsed and ebbed and rushed upwards towards that huge winged WEAPON. Partially hidden in the green glow floated a familiar silver-haired form. His body.

How in Gaia do these blasted scientists keep popping up, seeming to have no other purpose than to clone him, he'll never know. But he knows through painful experience that if _she_ succeeds in dragging him to that body, he will have lost.

Perhaps he would have been better off to have dissolved into the Lifestream just like the countless souls around him. Maybe then he'll finally be free from _her_ and her constant presence. But by Gaia, he didn't want to let go. It's not fair. His entire life he'd been controlled, manipulated, used. Especially now that he had flowed with the countless souls of the Lifestream, seen flashes and visions of bits and pieces of their past lives, he knew with painful clarity that he had never truly lived, never been allowed to truly live. It's not fair. He never even found the answers he sought his whole life. Who was he? What was he? His parents...

_Listen to mother, love, mother will make it all alright..._

_No! You are NOT my mother!_ The silver warrior snarled, but it was no use. The sweetly soothing voice never ceased and only grew louder as unseen tentacles dragged him closer and closer.

Why does she insist on having him? Why couldn't she just use the empty vessel herself and leave him alone?

Gentle laughter grated against his core, _Silly child, of course I am your mother. Who else could it be?_

He had no answer. She slipped her fingers into his sliver of weakness and tightened her hold.

 _No!_ The silver warrior screamed one last denial, before she laughed in triumph and pushed the unwilling spirit into the waiting body. Instantly the poisoned veins carried tainted blood to every cell in his body, strangling him, bending him to their will. Her voice reverberated in a deafening clamour in the confines of his skull. Her music rang its dissonance through every fibre of his body, dissolving his last resolves.

Suddenly, something shot past them, and _her_ music abruptly dimmed. Sephiroth blinked the eyes that were suddenly his again. But that thing was already speeding away, and the clamour rose once again.

He knew her goal. All this energy, the entire Lifestream, if she succeeds in absorbing it all into this body, then she will become unstoppable. A God. Unrestrained. Undying. And there was nothing he could do to stop her.

Vaguely, through eyes that were still partly his, he became aware that the _thing_ had passed the WEAPON and has stopped right in its path. What is it? What is it doing? Doesn't it know that if it didn't get out of the way of the WEAPON soon, it will be destroyed?

 _It doesn't matter love, all that matters are you and me now_. Jenova's soft, unseen fingers clawed into his mind, dragging his thoughts away from him. But somehow, Sephiroth was able to keep his eyes on the _thing_ , as they, along with the rest of the Lifestream came closer and closer...

 _Vincent?_ He didn't know why that name came to him so easily. Or how he had recognized him in his demonic form. But he didn't get a chance to dwell on these mysteries for in the next moment, the winged demon raised an impressive-looking gun, and fired.

The impact was unlike anything he had felt before. He was...very impressed. Jenova was screaming inside his head. All her triumph was falling away from them, back down to the planet. Vincent was falling too. His body had shrank back to his thin human form, limp and lifeless as it was buffeted this way and that by the residue shockwaves.

 _No!_ Sephiroth's eyes widened. His wing unfurled from his back, and he fought against both the shockwaves and Jenova's screams to reach the crimson, fragile form. For a moment it felt as though he would fail. Jenova's grip on him was still very strong, and his shoulders, chest and wings ached from the strain of having to fight through wave after wave of energy. But then suddenly, two pairs of hands gently pushed him from behind. He wasn't able to take a look at who it was though, for it took every last ounce of his strength, both mind and body, just to reach out towards the pale gunman.

_**Floating inside a tank of mako green, the pale man stirred. Crimson eyes opened and stared straight into his soul. His lips moved.** _

" **Sephiroth."**

Sephiroth gasped at the sudden memory and stared into crimson eyes that were now open and staring back at him in astonishment. His hand was clamped tight around a gauntleted claw. For a moment, they just stayed there, frozen in time. Then suddenly, a blinding flash of light washed everything in white. And then everything was falling, falling...

* * *

Sephiroth let out a groan. He forced his aching shoulder to work and dragged his hand under his body in an attempt to push himself off the ground, then abruptly stopped. His hand...his shoulder...they were _his_ again... Sephiroth held very still and listened. No music, no whispers, nothing. Jenova was gone. Well, not quite. Her presence was still there, but it was faint, distant. The presence that had once encompassed his entire existence was now not even half as substantial to him as the faint breeze that brushed his skin. Sephiroth counted his own breathing and tried to convince himself that this was real. He tried to move again and found that his other hand was still tightly clamped to a certain gauntleted gunman.

Vincent Valentine. That was his name. Sephiroth remember seeing him with the rest of Cloud's ragtag group. He remembered that the gunman fought like a Turk, though that must have been a past occupation seeing that he never wore the uniform and was fighting as a member of AVALANCHE.

" _ **Pitiful Turk, even now you insist on interfering with my genius." Hojo sneered as he jabbed his bony finger into a button on the control panel. The pale demon in the mako tank screamed.**_

Sephiroth blinked at the memory. He had _definitely_ seen this man before...in the lab... Right now the man was lying motionless beside him, his eyes closed, his face deathly pale.

"By Gaia, you had better not be dead." the former general muttered under his breath as he placed his fingers against the ex-Turk's neck to check for a pulse. He wasn't. Good. There are some questions that Sephiroth would very much like to ask him. But with the circumstances as they are, that'll have to wait.

Sephiroth sat back and studied his surroundings. He was in a barren land littered all over the place by large, strangely shaped jagged rocks. The sky was heavily overcast; the invisible sun cast its cheerless light from behind thick layers of clouds the colour of sickly yellow. Silver brows furrowed. He had travelled the planet quite extensively in the past—not to mention his clones, and no where that he remembered resembled this strange landscape.

A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He heightened his senses and listened to the wind. There...an exhale of breath. And there...the faint sound of a footstep. Not human. Very big, very heavy. And there are more of them. From all directions.

Sephiroth slowly and carefully wrapped his arms around the unconscious ex-Turk, trying his best to not let their stalkers know that they've been detected. Then in an explosion of movement, a black wing shot out from his back and he took into the air.

Instantly dark shapes leaped out from their hiding places behind the rocks. Their strange dog-like outlines did not belong to any creature that Sephiroth knew, but what he _could_ recognize told him quite enough. These creatures were huge, had _sharp_ claws and teeth...and wings.

Sephiroth was already tired and sore from his earlier struggles to reach Vincent, and the awkward weight of the unconscious man wasn't much help either. Two of those dog-creatures soon closed in on him and knocked him from the sky. Gritting his teeth and tightening his wings about himself, Sephiroth used the force of the impact to fuel a fast dive. Upon landing he twisted and rolled so that he ended up with his back against a sheer rocky cliff that rose straight from the ground. It wasn't an ideal position but it was good enough for the situation at hand. At least this way he could not be ambushed from the back and the tilt of the cliff prevented attacks from directly above. The former general deposited his unconscious burden to the ground behind him and called for Masamune.

The katana was there, but it was distant, almost as distant as Jenova. Its answer to his call came from somewhere far away through what felt like a twisted, folded maze. Sephiroth knew that he could still summon it if he could just concentrate and find the right path, but there was no time for that. The dog-creatures that had knocked him from the sky were already diving towards him, and the rest weren't far behind.

As luck would have it, there on the ground was a hard, long, flat piece of rock in rough shape of a sword. Sephiroth grabbed it and swung just as a crimson, sharp-toothed maw opened before his face. Blood splattered into the air. The force of the swing sent an arc of pressurized air sweeping forward, catching the creature right in the soft tissues that connected the top and bottom jaw. The creature screamed in pain as it was knocked backwards into another one behind it, and both landed hard into another group further behind. But three others immediately replaced them and came at Sephiroth from a different angle. Sephiroth sent arc after arc of pressurized air into the oncoming attackers, but the piece of rock was truly a poor substitute for Masamune—it was already cracking and crumbling at the edges from the force being put upon it—and the dog-creatures were fast, tough, vicious, and numerous. Sephiroth searched within himself for the power that had been there along with Jenova's possession, and found that like Masamune, they too were present but distant. Sephiroth cursed under his breath. The dog-creatures kept up their relentless assault, and were fast closing in and surrounding him. They'll be upon him in minutes if he doesn't think of something soon.

...

Vincent blinked in an attempt to force his eyes into focus. He could hear sounds of battle very close to him, and his instincts were screaming at him to get up on his feet. The blurry lines wavered for some moments before finally converging upon themselves to reveal a most astonishing scene: Sephiroth, the supposedly dead ex-general, was standing with his back towards him, and was fighting off dozens upon dozens of huge, strange-looking creatures with a sword-shaped rock. The ex-Turk quickly scrambled to a crouching position. Mako-green eyes flashed back at him at the movement.

"So you're awake," grunted the ex-general and former world-destroyer as he slashed at another group of attacking creatures with his rock and then spun around to kick away one that had come up from his side, "care to help?"

It seems that there's no time at the moment to dwell on the strangeness of it all. Vincent quickly took stock of the situation and reached for his holster. It was empty. Cerberus was nowhere to be found. But like all good Turks, Vincent never relied on just the one gun. He drew Quicksilver from his boot and fired at any attacker that came too close and tried to flank his unlikely defender.

Fortunately, he had a Lightning materia linked with an Elemental materia in the small handgun and had a good supply of extra ammo on his belt, and the electrically-charged bullets were having a decent effect on the strange creatures. Sephiroth was obviously experienced with battling alongside ranged fighters, for he altered his position and his strikes accordingly to better work with Vincent's shots.

For a moment Vincent and Sephiroth's combined efforts were showing some success, but then the creatures also changed strategy. They reorganized their formation and harassed the two fighters from all sides, but this time, their attacks were less forceful. They danced back and forth, charging in but then quickly leaping out of the way as soon as the fighters retaliate. A knot of unease settled in Vincent's gut, and from the look on Sephiroth's face and the way his mako eyes scanned between the darting creatures, the former general was also aware that something was amiss. Just then, the creatures that had kept constant pressure on them suddenly leaped away, revealing behind them a group of their comrades who apparently had grown spikes on their tails. Those creatures spun and whipped those said tails, and the said spikes shot out in a rain of death upon the two fighters.

Sephiroth cursed as he fought to keep those spikes from himself as well as from the defenseless ex-Turk with his clumsy piece of rock. But those spikes came hard and fast, and, with a sickening sound, one embedded itself in his shoulder just as another one went into his calf. The silver general faltered from the injury, and the dog-creatures quickly took advantage of the opening and rushed upon the wounded warrior. As he was forced onto the ground by the crushing weight of one of those creatures, Sephiroth caught sight of another barreling into the ex-Turk, knocking the slender man hard into the wall of rock behind him. Then two more jumped onto the ex-Turk and buried him from Sephiroth's sight.

Vincent gritted his teeth against the explosion of pain in his chest. If he wished to survive this, he'll have to risk a transformation. Chaos was still out cold from their battle with Omega, and the other demons were drained too. None of them had much energy to spare, so whichever one of the demons he chooses to transform into had better be able to make a difference. Vincent glared into the open jaws that dripped saliva down onto his face, drew together every last bit of energy that he had left in him, and transformed.

Sephiroth grinned in relief when red light flashed from underneath the pile of dog-creatures, which was then flung into the air as Galian Beast roared into being. Not missing a beat, the ex-general used the distraction to jam his powerful boots into tender underbellies and quickly ridded himself of the dog-creatures that were pinning him down.

Galian Beast roared again and sent a barrage of fireballs into the surrounding dog-creatures. The creatures quickly scrambled away. Sephiroth's eyes flashed. The dog-creatures were vulnerable to the demon's fire attacks!

"Beast!" Sephiroth called, recklessly hoping that the wildly-attacking purple-black monster possessed some semblance of sense, "If you can understand me, direct your fire up there!" He pointed to a group of dog-creatures that had re-gathered their bearings and was coming at them from the air in full charge. Golden eyes darted to him, then the beast did as was told.

Sephiroth aimed a swing of his make-shift weapon after the fireballs; the pressurized air made the fire flare out in an angry arc as it swept towards the oncoming attackers. It hit the charging dog-creatures head-on, sending their great bodies aflame as they came crashing down on their comrades on the ground.

The purple-black monster quickly caught on, and soon the area was flooded by wave after wave of fiery arcs and the rank stink of burning fur. It was not long before the surviving dog-creatures realized that their advantage had been lost and scampered away to find easier prey.

Sephiroth allowed the long sword-shaped rock to crumble from his hand, then he gingerly pulled the spikes from his shoulder and calf. A stream of blood came gushing out after each spike, but he wasn't worried—his enhanced healing would take care of that before it became anything too serious. A cold metallic click drew his attention to the ex-Turk that now crouched behind him, his gun pointed at the ex-general's heart. Sephiroth could tell from the ragged sound of his breathing that the ex-Turk was in poor condition, but those crimson eyes were steady and determined as they bore into the ex-general.

"How are you alive? And where is this place?" the ex-Turk's voice came out in a harsh whisper.

Sephiroth slowly turned around to face the gunman. He stared straight back into those cold crimson eyes, hoping that the gesture would convince the ex-Turk of his honesty.

"Your guess is as good as mine. But in case you are wondering: no I am not insane and I am not planning on destroying the world."

The ex-Turk was quiet for a few moments as he weighed the former general's words.

"What of Jenova?"

"Gone." Sephiroth wasn't going to waste words explaining the details, especially not when the ex-Turk clearly looked like he wasn't ready to believe him. On the plus side, his once-enemy hadn't shot him in the back...yet. Perhaps he could see it as a sign that their recent co-operation and the state of the ex-Turk's injuries will eventually convince Valentine to be a little less hostile.

Suddenly, before their conversation could go any further, large heavy nets opened up from their flanks and forced them to the ground. Strange energy coursed through the metallic ropes. Sephiroth struggled to stay awake long enough to catch a glimpse of humanoid shapes coming towards them, and then everything went black


	2. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Please see the Prologue

 

 

When Sephiroth next came to awareness, it was to the familiar rocking motion of a boat, and the sound of breathing from a dozen or so bodies around him. His first plan of action was to pretend to be still asleep and let his senses assess what they could of his surroundings. However, that was immediately ruined by an enthusiastically whispered "Hey! He's awake!"

Alright...it would appear that he was in unfamiliar territory, possibly hostile, and was in the company of at least one individual who was able to recognize the subtle signs of awakening, and see through his ruse. It would be wise to keep on his guard. The situation itself wasn't new to the former general, however...that voice... Sephiroth hadn't heard that voice for many years, but he remembered it well. The owner of that voice had died a long time ago.

Sephiroth opened his eyes to the sight of Zack Fair's huge steel-blue eyes only inches away from his own.

"Good morning! Or at least I assume it's still morning. The name's Fenris by the way. Mind telling me yours?" the spiky-haired young man offered Sephiroth a wide friendly smile. Sephiroth only stayed still and stared. Yes, this was definitely Zack, from the messy gravity-defying hair to the puppy-like enthusiasm to the slightly lop-sided tilt of his smile. But he also had a pair of wolf-like ears standing at attention on the top of his head...which were now starting to droop along with his smile from Sephiroth's continued silence.

"...'Fenris'?" Sephiroth asked warily, and those ears instantly perked back up.

"That's right! So...what should I call _you_?"

Sephiroth stared at the wolf-eared young man who could only be Zack yet can't possibly be Zack, who called himself 'Fenris', and who's ears and beaming face were again starting to droop from the prolonged silence.

"...Sephiroth." Sephiroth finally decided to answer, and once again those ears perked back up... only to drop down again as the young man realized the long string of strange syllables that he was now expected to pronounce.

"Se...Sepher...S-Sephi...Sefff... Err... how about I just call you 'Seph'?" the wild-haired one gave a sheepish grin, revealing four sharp, elongated canines.

Not really caring about the butchering of his name and choosing to temporarily set aside his questions, Sephiroth decided that it was more important for him to continue assessing his surroundings. He moved to sit up, and found that he was chained. That wasn't surprising. More concerning however, was that his limbs felt abnormally weak and each movement was taking much more energy than it should.

"It's the slave collar," as if reading his thoughts, Zack...Fenris tapped the metal band around his own neck as he explained, "it's loaded with spells and hexes that makes you weak, stops you from using magic, and controls any transformations that you might have. And they can all be turned on and off at will by its owner. Heck, I'm even tempted to praise the ingenuity of the sick bastard who invented these things...almost."

"Slave collar?" Sephiroth frowned as he reached for his own neck to find that indeed, he too had been collared with a metal band that had strange markings engraved on its surface. A heavy chain was attached to it on one end, and on the other end, to an even heavier chain that ran along the floor. There were more metal bands, though without any markings on his wrists and ankles. Both the chains between the ankles and the wrists gave almost no slack for movement, and his wrists were also bound close to his chest by a short chain that attached them to his collar. Other than his chains and shackles, he was completely naked. Zack...Fenris...and the other occupants who shared the metal cage that currently housed him were all attired in the same manner. Sephiroth felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension when his scanning eyes found Vincent to be amongst said fellow occupants.

Stripped of his usual layers of clothes, the ex-Turk looked especially pale and fragile. The scars that criss-crossed his chest matched very closely to the ones on the pale man he remembered in the mako tank...

"He was brought here together with you," said Zack...Fenris, "do you know each other?" Sephiroth nodded without shifting his attention from the unconscious but relatively uninjured form of the ex-Turk. Sephiroth had already judged that all of his own open wounds have healed to a decent degree, but he was still several days from ideal condition. Likely the ex-Turk was much the same way. Their rough introduction to this strange land had taken more out of the both of them than Sephiroth liked to think about. They would not be making their escape any time soon. And then there was the problem of finding the new path to summoning Masamune. No way that a piece of rock was going to be able to cut them out of those chains.

Fenris waited patiently for Sephiroth to elaborate. When met with only more silence, he simply dropped it and continued on: "Both of you were pretty roughed up. He got it a little worse than you did. But like you, he's been healing quite well and should be waking up in a day or two." Sephiroth acknowledged him with another nod and continued to survey his surroundings.

They were in a very long and narrow room with a low ceiling. Two rows of cages lined the walls. The thick chain on the floor that his collar was attached to ran through all the cages and was attached to all the other miserable souls in said cages who were, like him, naked and bound. The cages were spaced so that their prisoners could not reach into an adjacent cage, and a "corridor" was formed from the somewhat wider space between the opposing rows.

The cage that he was in was at the end of the room. A door was a long way down on the other end. In the cage opposite of his were thin, willowy humanoid creatures with pale greenish skin and what looked like vines for hair. The ceiling above them was slanted in a wedge shape and had a few thin rectangular openings that let in the sunlight. That was the only source of light in the room.

In the cage next to his was a group of small, ugly, imp-like creatures with huge ears and savage, pale-yellow eyes. Opposite of them and next to the plant-creatures was a cage containing what looked like two human children. They looked no older than fourteen. The girl had long golden hair and innocent green eyes. The boy's hair was an odd bluish-silver, and he had a pair of tattoos on the sides of his neck. Upon noticing Sephiroth's attention, the girl shrank tighter into the ball she made of herself while the boy shifted his body between her and Sephiroth and leveled the older man with a cold glare with his large crystal-blue eyes.

In the cage further down next to the children stood a lone centaur who was at the moment, studying Sephiroth right back. Other than the horse-like lower body, the centaur looked exactly like Angeal.

"What, never seen a centaur before?" centaur-Angeal raised an eyebrow and pulled his lips into a mildly amused grin; his black tail gave a short swipe behind his hoofed legs.

"That's N'geal. He was once a soldier in the Archdaemon of Fourth Circle's army," said Za...Fenris with a touch of admiration, "taught me quite a few things that helped me stay out of trouble around here...and about the only person around here who actually talks..." Zack...Fenris grumbled as he tossed a look of mock-hurt at the people who shared their cage—two young men with cold demeanors and silver hair.

Sephiroth willed himself to stay in his usual stoic calm. "Za...Fenris... ...where are we?"

"Somewhere in Hell," Zack...no... _Fenris_ shrugged, "Can't tell exactly where at the moment, but we are heading for Junon, Fifth Circle's biggest trading port."

"And...what is the purpose of this journey?" Sephiroth asked even though he was certain that he already had a fair guess.

"Merchanting." the wolf-eared young man answered casually, "And we..." he made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the long rows of cages, "...are the merchandise."

* * *

 

 


	3. Companions

Apparently the slave merchant who currently owns them is one of Hell's best. And apparently being property to one of Hell's best slave merchants had some benefits. They were well-fed, well-watered, and their surroundings were kept clean. This is because, as Fenris had explained, the highest class slave merchants cater to the highest class customers: the richest, most powerful demon lords of Hell. And those were a finicky bunch. They don't tolerate filth or disease, and they want nothing but the best, strongest, healthiest stock. It figured that this wolf-eared incarnation of Zack Fair would share Zack Fair's strange ability to find optimism in any situation — even ones like this. He was at least not enduring the horrendous conditions that he had seen in the lesser slave merchants' holdings, he had said with a shrug. The downside was that their future owners also had a reputation for being the cruelest and most volatile of slave masters in Hell.

"Not all of them are like that — well, some of them are even worse," Fenris grimaced, "but there are some that are kinder than others. I hope I get lucky and get bought by one of the better ones... otherwise..." Wolf-ears flattened against spiky hair as the young man gave a shudder.

The wolf-eared youth was sitting beside Sephiroth, chatting away as if he did not care whether anyone, including his silver companion, was listening. Sephiroth listened to all this information carefully, though with everyone within earshot distracted by Fenris, he also took this time to carefully flex his arms and legs against his shackles, testing their strength.

A wolf ear swiveled to his direction and Fenris stopped mid-sentence and turned to him.

"I wouldn't recommend an escape attempt, especially not in your condition," Fenris warned, his expression suddenly serious and severe, "I can smell the scent of lingering injuries in you. And don't underestimate the slave-trader. He handles the strongest slaves for the most powerful demons. And he did NOT get to where he is by his looks."

One of Sephiroth's silver brows arched in amusement: the slave merchant who currently controlled their fates was a wrinkly ugly thing. According to N'geal, his name sounded something like 'Gooey-Duck'. Sephiroth first saw him during feeding time.

Their food was nothing but brownish pellets. The pellets were put in a tray, which was then put on the floor and slid into the cages between the bars. With their hands bound to their collars, to reach the food the slaves had to lower their bodies to the ground in a submissive posture. Gooey-Duck made no attempt to hide his enjoyment of this, and the food was taken away as soon as either he was bored with it or the slaves have stopped taking food from the trays. The same was done for water. Sephiroth had given serious thought on abstaining from food and water to spare his pride, but gritted his teeth when he concluded that the sooner he can recover his strength, the sooner he can find a way to escape this place. And of course the slave trader had made absolutely _no_ effort to disguise the smug look on his repulsive face when he noted the submission of his new slave. Sephiroth scowled darkly as he chewed the tasteless handful that he had quickly grabbed before retreating to the furthest side of the cage. Being bound and humiliated like this was bringing up too many memories of his early days growing up in ShinRa labs. Sephiroth brutally shoved them back down to the depths of his psyche.

His cell-mates retrieved their rations in much the same way, their faces showing varying degrees of distain, with Fenris's showing the least. The two silver-haired boys who shared their cage both looked to be around sixteen years of age. The look in their eyes and the way they moved however, revealed awareness and discipline beyond their apparent physical age. Sephiroth knew a fellow warrior when he saw one.

According to Fenris, the one who had yellow cat-like eyes, thick long hair, and a pair dog ears sitting on the top of his head was named 'Inuyasha'; and the one who had short hair, blue eyes and a demonic claw in place of his right hand was called 'Nero'. Sephiroth glanced at the still form of the ex-Turk. His gauntlet had been taken off along with the rest of his heavy layers of clothing, and his once-hidden purplish-black demonic claw was now lying in sharp contrast against his pale scarred chest. The ex-Turk wouldn't be needing to hide his claw here though. Or his scars. All the other occupants of the cage sported scars of some sort, some nastier than others. Inuyasha looked like he had once been run through the stomach by a jagged pole the circumference of a fist by the look of the scars on his abdomen and his back. So apparently — Sephiroth noted sardonically — in Hell, the realm of demons, monsters like himself and Valentine fit right in.

Other than their names, Sephiroth knew very little about the two youths. Neither of them spoke much and they both kept to themselves. A wise course of action, given the circumstances. ...Unlike Fenris, who was again chattering away beside the silver general. Aside from a few obvious differences, Fenris was exactly like how Zack had been when Sephiroth first met him—right down to the hair style. His eyes still shone with the youthful, naive optimism that later dimmed and tempered after Angeal's death. It made sense...in a way...since this world's version of Angeal was trotting around his cage just a few paces away. Although...even though Zack had always been out-going and talkative, Sephiroth didn't remember him to have ever talked quite as much as Fenris. ...Perhaps Fenris didn't just have a wolf's ears, but also a wolf's need for a pack? Considering the "company" that Fenris had available around him: plant-creatures who communicated with each other by intertwining their vine-like hair together, imps that were little more than smarter-than-average beasts; the silent Inuyasha and Nero, the two frightened and withdrawn children, and the slaves beyond N'geal's cage who were too far away...perhaps the wolf-eared young man had reason to be a little excessively sociable.

"Hey... if I'm talking your ears off, you can tell me you know. I can shut up." Zack...Fenris gave an apologetic smile and a casual shrug. Sephiroth's eyes however, lingered on those expressive, treacherous ears and those painfully familiar steel-blue eyes.

"No...you're not." the silver general answered quietly as he looked away.

Fenris took a long moment to get over his surprise at the seemingly cold and aloof man's response, then, a genuine smile spread across his youthful face.

"Thanks, Seph."

Just then, the ship they were in gave a lurch as it slowly came to a stop.

"Are we there already?" Fenris frowned.

"I don't think so," said N'geal as he studied the daylight above the plant-creatures's cage, "it doesn't look like we have yet left the Wastelands."

Fenris hummed at that and went to one corner of the cage. There he pried open one of the floorboards to reveal what looked like an air-vent about the size of a palm.

"Hey, K-6, you there?" Fenris tapped lightly on the vent and then pressed his ear to it. A faint muffled voice answered him through the vent. Sephiroth's eyebrows drifted upwards: the voice sounded at lot like that annoying robot cat that had fought with a megaphone and a moogle alongside Cloud.

"What did you do _this_ time that landed you in Solitary again?" Fenris chuckled. From the vent came a long, impassioned tirade of muffled words that Sephiroth couldn't make out and Fenris didn't bother to listen to. Instead he turned to Sephiroth and explained: "K-6 is a Mecha cat. You know, one of those fully independent robots with advanced A.I. and integrated personalities. This one seems to have a few bolts loose up there though, so to speak. He 's a bit...quirky, and keeps getting into trouble with other slaves. Even other Mechas. Gooey-Duck keeps having to move him to the Solitary Room before trying to put him in a different cage. Don't see why he bothers though," Fenris shrugged, "Solitary's practically K-6's permanent home anyways."

"And you're his only friend?" Sephiroth allowed one corner of his lips to quirk up a little. Zack had always had a penchant for picking up stray cats and dogs...and generals. Fenris's cheeks coloured.

"What can I say? It's hard to find good conversation around here."

"Or another creature who can blab about nothing for as much or as long." muttered Nero.

"Love you too Nero." Fenris promptly flipped up one of his fingers — an obscene gesture, Sephiroth assumed — at the demon-clawed youth and turned back to the vent.

Although Fenris and K-6 kept going off on tangents and "blab about nothing" every chance they got, to the detriment of everyone else's sanity (though Sephiroth suspected that the two might have been doing it on purpose just to spite Nero), the Mecha cat proved to be an invaluable informant. Apparently the Solitary Room had a window that K-6 could see out of—in case its prisoner were a plant-creature. And the robot feline had incredible hearing and could spy to a certain degree on their captors from the sounds he hears traveling along the various pipes that ran through the ship. It was therefore no surprise to them when Gooey-Duck and his lackeys came in with a groaning, half-conscious, newly-captured slave, whom they then unceremoniously tossed into the empty cage opposite of N'geal's.

It was Genesis. Although he had red scales along his spine and on his forearms, black talons on his fingers and toes, and a long scaly tail, it was definitely Genesis. Sephiroth's elegant brows furrowed. Beside him, Fenris gave a low whistle: "A firedrake! I've never seen one this close before!" Even Nero and Inuyasha moved closer to get a better look.

As soon as the firedrake regained some of his bearings, he lashed out violently against his bonds. Bursts of flames rolled with deadly intent towards the slavers, only to bounce harmlessly off the ensorcelled cage bars. Gooey-Duck and his lackeys laughed in Genesis's face and cruelly taunted the helpless captive.

Sephiroth's jaw tightened. Behind the cackling slavers, N'geal shot a stern look in his direction and subtly shook his head. Sephiroth wasn't sure for whom it was meant, for it was clear that none of his cellmates liked the display any better than he did, and they were showing it much more obviously.

Mercifully, Genesis's weakened body soon gave out and he fell into an exhausted heap on the floor. The rest of the day he just laid there and refused to speak to anyone. When feeding time came Gooey-Duck purposely shoved the food tray into the firedrake's cage so that it hit his head with a resounding "BANG!" Genesis roared in rage and smacked the tray back out with his tail, spraying Gooey-Duck, and subsequently N'geal, with the brown pellets. Gooey-Duck wasn't the least bit fazed however. He casually flicked his wrist and splashed the tray of water across Genesis's face. Apparently firedrakes were not fond of water, for Genesis instantly flinched away. Gooey-Duck cooly regarded the drenched, coughing and sputtering red-head and chuckled darkly, "Good...very good... you will fetch me a good price yet... but before that... you _will_ bow for me."

Ignoring Genesis's glare, the slave merchant continued down the rows of cages, basking in the forced obeisances of his helpless merchandise.

* * *

**Additional Disclaimers:** Inuyasha of the manga and anime franchise of the same name belong to Rumiko Takahashi. Nero of the video game series Devil May Cry belong to either Capcom, Ubisoft, or Hideki Kamiya, or all of the above. So basically, none of this roomful of bishies belong to me and I make no money from them. The only character I can really claim ownership to is…

Gooey-Duck: I'm yours baby~

Author: …

….

T_T

 


	4. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Violence, blood, torture

Night finally fell over the slave ship. The stars that Sephiroth could see through the slits above the plant-creatures were not organized into any constellation that he recognized, but he had expected as much. The light that the slits allowed in was faint, but it was enough for Sephiroth's enhanced eyes to see all he needed.

All was quiet, except for the clinking of chains from Genesis's continuing efforts to escape his bindings, and the sound of heavy, ragged breathing from the sleeping ex-Turk. Sephiroth watched as the demon-ridden man battled his nightmares. Whatever Valentine was dreaming of, it was sure to be a dreamscape in which Sephiroth wouldn't want to walk.

"Should we wake him? It looks pretty bad from here." Fenris asked worriedly. Sephiroth shook his head. His own memories of the things he'd seen in Hojo's lab and his own nightmares during his time there surfaced unpleasantly in his mind.

"He'll get through it. If we wake him now, he may not thank you for it."

Fenris nodded in understanding and sat back. Unfortunately it was at this inopportune moment that Genesis chose to let out a roar of frustration and directed all his fury onto the chain that ran between his collar and the thick chain on the floor. The thick chain that bound him—and everybody else—pulsed with energy before sending it right back to all the collars that were attached to it. Everybody jerked as bolts of energy ripped through their bodies, but it was clear that Genesis was the one who got the worst of it. The pain from the rebound only put the firedrake into an enraged frenzy, and soon the room was filled with flashes of fire and red energy and agonized screams of all its occupants as Genesis screamed in pain and fury and recklessly attacked the chain again and again.

"STOP! You'll destroy us all!" N'geal's voice rose above the deafening clamour.

"Leave me be!" snarled Genesis, "If I must face my destruction, then I shall willingly accept my fate...but I'll not be afraid to take the world with me!" The firedrake threw one last ball of pure-white fury at the unyielding chain, before the backlash and exhaustion finally overcame him and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

The whole room stank of heated metal and pain and sweat. Most of the plant-creatures were out cold; the two children only stayed in the world of the conscious for their own coughing and trembling; the imps were in a screeching frenzy. N'geal and those in Sephiroth's cage fared better than most, but Sephiroth knew that the crisis was not yet over. Vincent was now awake, and the look in those gold-flecked red eyes was NOT one that the ex-general had hoped for.

Sephiroth barely had time to curse under his breath before the pale, slender gunman let out a soul-rending, inhuman roar.

—

Vincent woke to pain and the sounds of suffering. His unfocused eyes made out the blurred shapes of cages and deformed humanoid creatures around him; the familiar cold of shackles bit into his skin. Shadows of his nightmare of being back in Hojo's lab flitted across his vision. In unison, he and his demons screamed their denial. They thrashed violently against their restraints, not caring when skin broke and bone crackled.

"SHIT! We have to stop him!" A youthful voice reached his ears through his delirium, then warm weights dropped onto his legs and torso and strong calloused hands attempted to hold him down. Vincent bucked and fought them tooth and nail, and when it became clear his own strength was not enough, he called upon the aid of his demons. Both man and demons gasped in disbelieve when they found their transformation painfully _blocked_ by some sort of magic barrier that originated from somewhere in the vicinity of his neck. Chaos roared in outrage as he sent a wave of destructive energy in an attempt to break the barrier. The resulting clash of magics sent jolts of agony through their damaged body and elicited harsh curses from those that held him down.

"You better find a way to make him stop! The slave-trader will be here any second!" a low masculine voice hissed from some distance away.

"He's coming! He's coming! I can hear him!" a young female voice whimpered.

"Seph, what should we do?"

"Damn it Valentine!" a familiar voice growled, "everyone brace yourselves, this may or may not work."

None of it made sense to Vincent's fragmented mind, all he understood was pain, and _danger_ , and he struggled to get away, thrashing against anything and everything that blocked his escape.

Then suddenly, as if a bucket of icy water had been dropped onto his head, his panic dissipated as if it never existed. An eerily familiar green light flitted away from the edge of his vision, and the sounds and sights of the world around him began making sense again.

"Valentine! I know you can hear me, so listen! I don't know what you've been dreaming, but you are NOT where you think you are! Cease your futile struggling or we will _all_ suffer the consequences!"

Sounds of a familiar voice gradually coalesced into words and meanings, and a familiar face swam into view. Sephiroth. Vincent blinked. He glanced about and caught the glint of silver hair on the blurry shapes of the young men who were holding him down. Vincent's eyes widened. He was the one who had rescued Elena and Tseng from the Remnants. What the silver-haired youth had done to the two unfortunate Turks... And that green light...that spell that was just cast on him...that was Sephiroth's...Sephiroth had cast...

 _NO_... In an instant the demon-ridden man reacted. An ancient voice reverberated through the air as Vincent's lips moved with his demons' incantation, shadowy tendrils of energy twisted about the ex-Turk's body as he and his demons prepared to fight for their lives.

"Ok...that is not creepy..."

"By Gaia...VALENTINE!"

The ex-Turk barely registered the sound of a door handle being turned before the world came to a screeching halt when he felt Sephiroth's surprisingly soft lips pressed upon his own.

—

Sephiroth had barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief. His limit break "Heartless Angel" originally had the effect of draining his opponents of their battle rage, crippling them from using their own limit breaks. When it was augmented by Jenova's power, it had the much, much more potent effect of draining his opponents' life force, rendering them vulnerable to a knockout as soon as the next attack, any attack, hits. The former general had assumed, hoped, that since he was no longer under the power of Jenova, the effect of Hearless Angel would have also reverted back to its much milder version. He couldn't be sure though, and there was that slave collar to get through. He had mentally ran through all his options, trying to come up with a way to quickly stop the ex-Turk's struggles while avoiding further damage on the already injured and unstable man; and also trying to not end up with a scenario in which Valentine would be knocked out, but his demons not, leaving Gaia knows how many confused and angry demons for them to deal with.

The former general had steeled himself as he prepared to cast his limit break. Genesis had quite thoroughly demonstrated that the slave collar didn't block all abilities, and limit breaks had always been...special categories of abilities of their own. The chains might still counter the limit break with more backlash, but then again, what was one more shot of agony for this night?

Thankfully the limit break bypassed the hexes of the slave collar, and the chains only gave a weak pulse, probably because it was not a direct attack. And when the green light of Heartless Angel faded away, Valentine — thank Gaia — had the desired reaction of suddenly relaxing, the delirium gone from his eyes.

Unfortunately, Valentine also just happened to be one of only a handful of people out of the entire population of Gaia who had directly fought a Jenova-powered Sephiroth. Sephiroth had hoped that the gunman would be too disoriented to recognize Heartless Angel being cast on him, but luck was not with him this night. And so instead of a delirious ex-Turk who think his life is being threatened, he now has a non-delirious ex-Turk who _still_ thinks his life is being threatened.

The door handle clicked. And Sephiroth _moved_.

The former general didn't know what made him do what he did. Perhaps it was that his hands were occupied pinning Vincent's down, so that the ex-Turk could not further cut himself on his shackles. Or perhaps his lips and Vincent's lips were just the shortest distance from point A to point B to his objective: stop Valentine from finishing that incantation.

One couldn't argue with the results though, for the demon-Turk instantly stilled the moment their lips touched, his incantation and gathered energy abandoned. And just in time too: Gooey-Duck and his lackeys came charging into the room but a fraction of a second later.

The old demon's beady eyes immediately trained onto the still-warm bars of Genesis's cage.

"Well what have we here?" the slave merchant sneered at the firedrake, who was now just regaining his consciousness and was struggling to his feet.

"Strap him down." Gooey-Duck ordered his lackeys, then went to check on the other slaves.

All of the men in Sephiroth's cage held perfectly still as they watched Gooey-Duck turn to the cages in the opposite direction. Then suddenly Fenris muttered an apology to Vincent and started to lick furiously at the ex-Turk's bleeding wrists. Vincent, to his credit, stayed still and only watched the wolf-eared young man with wide eyes. To Sephiroth's surprise, Inuyasha soon joined Fenris and began licking Vincent's ankles in similar enthusiasm.

"What are you doing?" Sephiroth whispered, not bothering to hide the incredulity from his voice.

"The imps, they're reacting to the scent of blood. If we don't clean it off, and if Gooey-Duck finds out that...Va-len-tine...has tried to escape, whether it was in his right mind or not, then things will get VERY nasty." Fenris barely stopped his licking as he hurriedly explained.

Sephiroth turned to the imps' cage to see that indeed, the savage little creatures' eyes where beginning to glow, their fangs were bared, and their pained screeches were turning into excited, predatory snarls. Sephiroth cursed inwardly when Gooey-Duck's long ears twitched and dark beady eyes turned toward their direction. Even in the short time he'd spent here, he had seen enough of Gooey-Duck's antics to at least partially understand Fenris's urgency. And the dark, predatory look in the slave trader's eyes when he studied the firedrake had looked uncomfortably similar to Hojo's when... The ex-general looked back at Vincent to find that even Nero had now joined the other two boys, and was hurriedly licking up the blood on the floor around Vincent. Gooey-Duck was beginning to advance their way, and although Vincent's enhanced healing had stopped the bleeding from his wounds, the gunman had practically shredded himself in his efforts to break free—at this rate they were not going to make it. Sephiroth cursed inwardly again at what he was going to have to do. He glared at the ex-Turk, _hard._

"Do NOT move Valentine. I will explain everything later." With that, the ex-general lowered his head and joined the young men. Vincent, for his part, could only remain frozen in place as his not-yet-fully-functioning brain struggled to process the bizarre scene.

Their combined efforts were soon paying off but the scent of blood did not lessen as much as it should. Puzzled, they turned Vincent onto his stomach to find deep still-seeping wounds on the back of his neck. The wounds did not puncture anything important but they will not be able to heal fast enough to stop bleeding in time. Gooey-Duck had by now reached the other side of the imps's cage and was studying the excited creatures. If he came to their cage now, then he would definitely be able to smell the scent of blood and know that something was amiss. Sephiroth felt, rather than heard his cellmates hold their breath as Gooey-Duck moved in their direction.

Suddenly, the blonde-haired girl started to bawl at the top of her lungs. Her volume was most impressive. Gooey-Duck snarled and yelled at her to shut up, which only turned her volume to an even higher notch. The bluish-haired boy yelled back at Gooey-Duck even as he tried to comfort his friend, which had Gooey-Duck spitting vicious threats at his insolence, and then N'geal launched into a lecture about honour and the treatment of children at the slave trader. Finally, the fuming slave merchant smacked his whip across their cages, sending sparks of energy crackling along the bars.

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed, "One more sound from any of you and I'll remove your worthless tongues!"

At that they all fell silent. Even the girl had managed to reduce her crying to a hitching sob. Gooey-Duck gave them all a final glare for good measure before he turned to check on the last two cages in the room...and found Fenris with his hands on one of the new slaves' rear.

...

Sephiroth let out a breath that he found himself holding. The commotion had distracted Gooey-Duck just long enough for Vincent's wound to clot. They had just finished cleaning off the rest of the blood when Gooey-Duck managed to silence the trio. Inuyasha and Nero retreated to their usual places at the back of the cage with a swiftness and smoothness that impressed even the enhanced swordsman. Fenris...not so much. The wolf-eared young man stumbled on his chains and ended up with his hands squarely on top of Vincent's bare, well-toned nether cheeks in his reflex to catch himself from his fall. Vincent stayed perfectly still.

"Wolfling! You with your rabid libido! Tone it down! You're agitating the worm-eaten imps!" Gooey-Duck barked.

Fenris quickly retrieved his offending hands. Gooey-Duck rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but suddenly paused and sniffed the air.

"Somebody's been bleeding in here." he fixed his hard, black eyes on the shackled men.

Nero shrugged towards Inuyasha: "Some _cat_ got spooked by the noise and scratched me when he panicked."

"I don't see any wounds on you," black beady eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I heal fast." Nero responded cooly.

Gooey-Duck didn't look completely convinced. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when Inuyasha slammed into Nero, knocking them both to the ground.

"I'm a _dog_ -hanyou you asshole! And I did NOT panic!"

"Then why do you have cat eyes and _panic_ like a mewling kitten you species-confused piece of dog shit!" Nero retaliated.

"Enough!" Gooey-Duck banged on their cage with his whip, "You're lucky I've more important matters to attend to, or I'd have all of you flayed!"

The two boys obediently stopped their wrestling and patiently waited in their respective positions until Gooey-Duck went out of earshot.

"'Species-confused piece of dog shit'?" Inuyasha cocked up an ear at the boy underneath him.

"You heard me. Now get off!" Nero grinned wickedly and shoved the dog-eared youth.

Inuyasha humphed and flicked a sharp claw across Nero's collarbone, earning himself a venomous glare.

"Well what do you know," Inuyasha sat back and smugly licked Nero's blood from his claw as he watched the shallow wound on the other boy close itself, "you _do_ heal fast."

Whatever Nero had planned to do then was cut short when Gooey-Duck began talking loudly so that all in the room could hear.

"Since both my new hybrids are now awake, let's make an example of you, shall we?" the slave-trader glanced back at them from Genesis's cage, "let this be a lesson to the rest of you on how we deal with wannabe escapees here."

==============================Scenes of torture ahead================================

The slave trader casually strolled into Genesis's cage. By this time his lackeys had had the firedrake chained spread-eagle on the floor. Genesis wasn't one to give up without a fight however; as soon as Gooey-Duck crouched down beside him, he opened his mouth to blast the slave trader with a face-full of flames. Gooey-Duck saw it coming though, and in a lightning-fast movement that belied his old and decrepit appearance, he shoved a pump-like device into the firedrake's open jaws and forced some kind of liquid down Genesis's throat.

"There, that should cool your fire for a while." the slave trader said calmly as Genesis gaged and chocked and convulsed against his shackles; whatever the liquid was was clearly causing him a lot of pain.

"You see, escaped merchandise is very bad for business..." Gooey-Duck handed the now-empty device back to one of his lackeys, then put his bony hands on Genesis's shoulder and twisted the joint out of its socket. Genesis adamantly refused to scream.

"...Not to mention for one's business reputation," Gooey-Duck continued to the other shoulder, "It's not easy making a living catering to the stringent demands of high-class clients you know..." the slave trader moved to the joint between Genesis's hips and thighs, hands lingering in their positions to let the helpless captive realize what was coming, "...and so I take escape attempts very, _very_..."

"Ngh!" Genesis couldn't quite smother his grunt of pain.

"...seriously," black beady eyes glinted evilly at the sweat-drenched face beneath them as bony hands pushed slowly but mercilessly against the other leg joint, "as well as personally."

Genesis struggled in vain as the joint was slowly and deliberately pushed out of its place. A sickening "pop" echoed through the room and Genesis's body shuddered limply under the slaver's cruel hands.

"Now that we're all set-up," Gooey-Duck stood up and undid Genesis's now-unneeded restraints, "let's begin, shall we?"

 

* * *

 **Additional Notes:** Took a bit of liberty with Sephiroth's signature move, Heartless Angel here. It would definitely be too OP if I kept it the same as in the original game, which was that it reduces his opponents' HP down to 1. In Dissidia, Hearless Angel had the effect of reducing his opponent's "Bravery" stat down to 1, so I guess it could be somewhat translated to be the limit break gauge in FF7, which in real life mechanics would be that it takes away an opponent's battle rage? Adrenaline rush? Anyway, forget the logic, it just works because I say so XD


	5. Human

"You are the most obstinate, reckless person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing," the silver general shook his head as he checked over Vincent's injuries, "and believe me, I've had to deal with quite a number of such individuals in the past." Namely Genesis. ...And Zack. ...And about half of the headstrong young men who had made it into SOLDIER. But Vincent Valentine was definitely the worst of them all, Sephiroth decided this moment.

Silence and darkness had once again enfolded the slave ship. Genesis now lay limp and unconscious in his cage; N'geal was leaning wearily on his; the children were huddled in a corner, the girl's quiet sobs occasionally breaking the heavy silence. The plant-creatures have mostly recovered and had since wrapped themselves tightly in their hair to resemble flower buds. The imps had by now calmed and were twitching in their sleep.

Sephiroth took a firm hold of Vincent's damaged wrist and felt the ex-Turk tense and draw back. Letting out an impatient sigh, Sephiroth snapped the dislocated joint back in place pointedly. The pale gunman barely flinched. The man had an impressive tolerance for pain, the ex-general had to give him that.

During Genesis's ordeal, the firedrake's body had instinctively released pulses of energy in protest of the torture that was being forced upon it. The thick chain then took it as an attack and returned it in kind to the writhing form, as well as to all the other slaves through their chained collars. Sephiroth was certain that Gooey-Duck had intended it to be this way.

Despite his earlier outburst, Vincent had maintained his usual calm demeanor through it all. When it was over and Sephiroth insisted that his injuries needed to be checked, the gunman adamantly refused. The silver general had to wrestle the stubborn ex-Turk into submission, as awkward as that was since both of them were restrained, not to mention naked. Just what in the name of Gaia had Valentine planned to do about his dislocated wrists without any help was beyond the ex-general. Or his cracked ribs. Granted, there wasn't very much that any of them could do about those at the moment, but Sephiroth knew that the ex-Turk had sustained heavy damage to his chest area during their fight with the dog-creatures, and his panicked thrashing might have done himself serious harm. Sephiroth listened to the barely perceptible hitches in Vincent's breathing as he ran firm fingers over the man's chest and along his sides. It would seem that the ex-Turk's internal injuries had been healing well. A few of the curved bones suffered minor cracks but nothing was broken or seriously out of place. They would heal on their own provided that the ex-Turk doesn't engage in any strenuous activities for the next day or so, which was highly unlikely anyways given their current situation. The bruises that were forming over those cracked ribs might be more of a problem if they don't fade by morning. Depending on how bad the bruising looked by then, they just might have to try to convince Gooey-Duck that those bruises were acquired from rough sex with Fenris. Sephiroth's lips twitched in amusement at the thought.

Speaking of the young men, they too have proven to be more than capable of handling themselves in the face of pain and danger. That could either mean escape could be easier than Sephiroth had first estimated, or much, much more difficult. For now all three were sitting quietly watching the two men with curiosity.

Satisfied with his inspection, Sephiroth sat back and coolly regarded the ex-Turk. The gunman coldly glared back, his limbs gathered close about his body in a clearly defensive posture. Sephiroth resisted the urge to let out another sigh. Really, did the ex-Turk _really_ expect Sephiroth to attack him _now_? Right after all that licking the ex-general had to do to save him from Gooey-Duck's sadistic paws?

"You said you would explain." the ex-Turk said quietly in his soft monotone. There was nothing soft about his crimson eyes however.

"I did." Sephiroth paused and let the silence stretch, but the crimson gaze remained steady and unfazed. Sephiroth smirked. It's been a while since someone could go toe-to-toe with him like this. For now, the silver general gave way.

"In short, we are in Hell. And I don't mean figuratively. This vessel belongs to a slave merchant. You saw him a moment ago, torturing that unfortunate firedrake who had failed in an escape attempt. He is currently transporting his cargo — us — to one of the major trading ports of Hell so that he may sell said cargo to demon lords. I'd suggest you refrain from doing another stunt like the one you did earlier. I've no wish to be tortured along with you." Sephiroth carefully watched as Vincent slowly digested that information. Silver brows furrowed slightly in puzzlement when the pale gunman simply relaxed and accepted it.

—

Vincent wasn't surprised that he'd end up in Hell. He wasn't even very surprised that he'd end up in Hell alongside Sephiroth, the child-turned-monster whose existence he had failed to prevent and whose life he could not save. It seemed a fitting penance. Except...Vincent was quite sure that he was not yet dead. In fact, his demons had quite vehemently confirmed that no, he wasn't dead. They also confirmed that Sephiroth was telling the truth when he claimed they were in Hell. The demons recognized the feel of the place. They've been here before, and it comforted them.

All of the demons' memories were fragmented, but Chaos and Galian Beast remembered the beings who shared their cage: the ones with animal ears were of a race of animal sorcerers who wielded great strength and power, and who could transform and take on human form; the one with a demonic arm was the progeny of a demon and its human mate. Vincent looked down at his own demonic arm. Unlike Sephiroth and the animal sorcerers, who had both their wrists bound by plain metal bands, the band around his demonic wrist was marked by elaborate symbols. A faint hum of power surrounded the shackle, and the arm it encircled felt numb and was barely capable of movement. Vincent looked to see the silver-haired boy's demonic arm bound the same way. If he remember correctly, he had heard the other young men call him 'Nero', though this young man bore no resemblance whatsoever to another "Nero" whom he had fought not very long ago. Noticing Vincent's attention, Nero flexed his demonic claws slightly and unflinchingly returned the gunman's gaze.

A faint tap sounded from somewhere under the floor. Vincent watched as the dark-haired young man's wolf-like ears twitched and as said young man removed one of the floorboards and pressed one of said ears to a vent on the floor.

"Hey cat... Yeah, Gooey-Duck caught someone trying to escape... We're all alright... It was a firedrake... I think he's going to be alright too, he's _very_ stubborn..."

The gunman blinked when he recognized the voice coming from the vent to be Cait Sith's. Sitting somewhere opposite of him, Sephiroth watched and took note.

Just then, one of the imps kicked another in his sleep. The victim then woke up with an angry screech and proceeded to savage the offender. Their bout of violence only lasted a few seconds or so, as both imps vented their outrage and then settled back down to sleep. The noises they made however, were terrible, and it drove the already sobbing and shaking blonde-haired girl into a wailing cry.

"Hey hey..." said Fenris softly as he moved to the front of the cage to get closer, "it's alright, those imps were just bickering, they won't hurt you, see?"

Hearing Fenris's soft voice, the girl's crying quieted a little and she looked up at the wolf-eared young man from her desperate grip on the boy's arm. Fenris wiggled his ears, opened his eyes wide and made a very puppy-like face. The girl broke from her tears and giggled.

"There, that's better." Fenris smiled, "There's that warrior princess who dared to take on mean old Gooey-Duck." The spiky-haired young man's face turned serious, "That was a very brave thing you did back there, distracting the slave trader for us like that, and very quick thinking too. Thank you."

The girl shook her head franticly, "No...I really was very scared. I didn't want to see anyone hurt like that. It was bad enough that..." her green eyes darted to the unmoving Genesis, and her young face tightened, "if you were beaten like that too then...then... I couldn't bear it..." The girl pressed her lips together and her large green eyes once again began to shine with tears. The boy's arms tightened around her.

"I know, Nana," he said quietly, his voice was surprisingly low and rough for his age and effeminate appearance, "but that was still a very reckless thing you did."

"That it was," agreed Fenris, "you shouldn't do anything to upset the slave trader again. I'd hate to see such a sweet girl like you get hurt." The girl smiled and nodded and relaxed into the comforting arms of the boy. Fenris too, relaxed and smiled when he saw that.

"So your name is Nana huh? I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Fenris."

"...I'm Husky." the guarded and quiet bluish-haired boy answered in his oddly gravelly voice.

Fenris's eyebrows rose, "That's...a fitting name..."

Husky tossed him an unamused look, then looked away as he hesitated, "Will you...will you tell your friend..." he looked to N'geal, "...that we are grateful for his interference? If he hadn't helped us when he did, then Nana really could have gotten hurt."

"Sure thing," Fenris smiled, "Hey N'geal, they said 'thank you'."

The centaur chuckled, "Tell them it's fine, I've been around a few of those types before, I know how to handle them."

Sephiroth frowned in puzzlement as Fenris repeated N'geal's message...albeit somewhat...shorter...and less eloquent...to the children. N'geal's and the children's cages were but an arm's length away, right next to each other. Could they not hear each other's words?

"Fenris," Sephiroth asked once all was quiet again, "why did you need to relay the message between them? Couldn't they simply talk between themselves?"

Fenris gave him a puzzled look, "No, those children are human. They can't understand N'geal's language, and N'geal can't understand theirs."

Human? Sephiroth's brows furrowed as he looked towards the cages that housed N'geal and the two children. He had always wondered about his heritage. Once, he thought he had finally found it, but that had turned out to be a lie too. He was now very certain that he was not a Cetra, and he was fairly certain that Jenova's claim to be his mother was yet another lie too. So what does that make him?

"I can understand all of them..." he murmured, partly to himself.

"Of course you can," Fenris looked at him in confusion, "you're a hybrid." At Sephiroth's puzzled stare Fenris elaborated, "You know, a mixed-blood offspring of a demon and a human — like Nero."

Inuyasha snorted derisively. Both Fenris and Sephiroth turned to him.

"What," the dog-eared youth scoffed at Fenris, "your full-blood youkai nose can't tell that you have a human in front of you?"

"Human?" Fenris frowned. He studied Sephiroth for a few moments, then leaned close...very close...to Sephiroth, and sniffed. Sephiroth frowned but resisted the urge to shove the young male away.

"He's...a little different from Nero... But he looks and smells like a hybrid to me." Fenris finally pulled back, face still scrunched up in puzzlement.

"In your world," asked Inuyasha, "are there any hanyou who were not born as they are, but made from humans who gave their bodies to be merged with youkai?"

"No," Fenris's eyes widened, "I didn't even think that was possible..."

"Well it is in mine." Inuyasha scowled towards Sephiroth and Vincent, "In my world, there are quite a number of humans who lust after the power of youkai. I've fought one who went as far as to deliberately destroy his own soul in order to gain it. These two might have been successful enough to fool you and the slave trader, but my nose doesn't lie, and neither does the taste of their blood."

Fenris stared wide-eyed at the two men, "Is that...true?"

Sephiroth wasn't exactly sure of what the two animal-eared young men were talking about, but he was getting a clear impression that they were accusing him of having done to _himself_ whatever experiments ShinRa had done on him.

"I have had _no_ hand in choosing my making." he growled angrily, "And..." he paused, "I do not know the circumstances of my birth."

"You don't know your parents?" Fenris's eyes blinked in surprise.

"Or whether I had any." Sephiroth muttered to no one. To his side, Vincent flinched.

"And what about you?" Fenris asked Vincent.

"I...was born human," said Vincent quietly, "though I too did not choose to become what I am."

"But...Gooey-Duck said you were hybrids, it's strange that an old fox like him can be wrong about these things..." Fenris went silent in thought for a few moments, then he suddenly straightened and frantically looked around the dark and quiet room. All was still. Even N'geal and the children had by now gone to sleep.

"What is it?" asked Nero, who had been very quiet this whole time.

"Shh!" Fenris hissed, then lowered his voice, "all of you, do not utter a word of this to anyone, especially you Inuyasha! Do NOT let ANYONE know that you can tell that they are not what Gooey-Duck says they are."

Inuyasha frowned in question, but before the dog-eared youth could ask him to explain, Fenris turned to Sephiroth and Vincent and continued, "Humans are not popular slaves among demon lords. In fact, a lot of them have _very_ low opinions of humans. My guess is that Gooey-Duck _does_ know what you are, but is trying to pass you off as hybrids so that he can sell you for a much, much better price. After all, no-one else here seem to have noticed any different, except for Inuyasha." The wolf-eared young male turned his eyes towards Genesis's cage, all the others followed his gaze, "And...we all know how Gooey-Duck reacts when someone interferes with his 'business'."

* * *

**Additional Disclaimers:** Nana and Husky of the manga series +Anima belong to Natsumi Mukai. I'm only borrowing them and make no money from them


	6. Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** large chunks of exposition

Vincent's quiet acceptance of everything was infuriating. Sephiroth didn't know why it was bothering him so. But it was. During feeding time, the ex-Turk followed his cellmates and retrieved his handful of food without a hint of protest. Even Gooey-Duck furrowed his brows at the easy grace with which the man performed his forced obeisance.

When the water tray was slid in Vincent was the last to go for it. Just as the ex-Turk was reaching for the water, Gooey-Duck slapped his bound hands away with his whip.

"On your hands and knees like the good-for-nothing slave you are!" the slave trader commanded.

The ex-Turk complied and lowered his lips to the water. Growling, the slave trader kicked the tray and splashed its contents all over Vincent. The other occupants of the cage tensed, but Vincent simply sat silently with his eyes averted. Gooey-Duck snorted down his nose and moved on to more entertaining victims. Vincent stayed where he was until Gooey-Duck began to head for the door. Sephiroth watched as the ex-Turk finally lifted his eyes to the slave trader's receding back. Those crimson orbs burned. Sephiroth found himself smirking in satisfaction at the sight.

Genesis on the other hand, was still adapting to his situation poorly. He laid on the far side of his cage and ignored everything and everyone. Gooey-Duck was not worried however, the slave trader was confident that hunger and thirst will eventually make the firedrake submit.

The children seemed to have gained some confidence since the previous night's ordeal. They were more open to converse with Fenris, and even tried communicating with N'geal via gestures.

Sephiroth studied the 'human' children, his mind still racing through question after question that the conversations from the previous night had left. Although Inuyasha and Fenris had claimed them to be human, the children did exhibit some oddities that would say otherwise. The boy, for example, had hair that was a decidedly inhuman bluish-silver. Even Sephiroth's own silver mane could be passed off as a premature white. But perhaps the boy's hair had been dyed, as odd a colour choice as that was. And the girl had heard the slave trader's footsteps even before the ex-general's enhanced hearing did. Although she could have simply imagined it in her panicked state and got lucky.

"Fenris, how are you so sure that those children are human?" Sephiroth questioned out loud.

"Of course we're human! What else can we be?" Nana huffed, offended, before Fenris could answer.

"You seem to have superior hearing abilities than what humans should possess," Sephiroth turned his cold mako eyes on the girl, "you heard the coming of the slave trader when no human should have been able."

"Well we're a little different, is all. But we're definitely human!" Nana insisted defensively, not at all fazed by Sephiroth's cold attitude.

"Nana," Husky stopped the girl before she could continue, "let him think what he likes, it's no matter."

"But..." Nana looked back at her friend. She looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself and conceded. Crossing her arms, she humphed at Sephiroth and pointedly turned her back on him. Partially hidden behind her long golden hair, Sephiroth noticed a tattoo resembling bat wings on the girl's shoulder-blades. The style of the tattoo matched the abstract, wave-like patterns that were drawn on Husky's neck.

Fenris cocked an eyebrow in question at Sephiroth.

"If you're wondering how they can tell who's human and who's not — it's their nose." Nero cut in nonchalantly from the other end of the cage. Sephiroth's mako eyes narrowed at the youth.

Fenris watched Sephiroth closely with a strange expression on his face. "You...don't know what Inuyasha and I are, do you?"

Noticing the attention from not only his cellmates, but also N'geal, Sephiroth carefully gave a slight shake of his head.

"You really don't..." steel-blue eyes widened, then the wolf-eared young man leaned closer, lowering his voice, "are you... you're not from this world, are you?"

"...as far as I can tell, I assume not..." Sephiroth answered warily.

Those large steel-blue eyes leaned ever closer, "Did...something happen? Did you see a flash of light? Feel like you were being sucked into something? Did you fall into the sky? Or fall from it? Did you land in a rocky desert with a yellow sky?"

Sephiroth's eyes widened. Suddenly, Fenris beamed.

"ME TOO! Oh, and also Inuyasha."

Sephiroth blinked at the excitable young man, and then looked to Inuyasha, who was watching with his ears turned to full alert towards them. A few paces away, Husky and Nana also stirred and moved closer.

"You too?" Fenris asked them. The children nodded.

"How long ago was that?"

Husky and Nana exchanged a look between them, then Husky answered, "We're not sure, we've been knocked out and captured right after we...fell... We were already here when we woke up."

"Then that would make it only about a week before Inuyasha..." Fenris's brows furrowed. He turned to Sephiroth, "What about you Seph, were you and Valentine taken by slavers shortly after you came to this world too?" Sephiroth nodded, and Fenris's brows knit tighter together.

"That's strange... these thing's shouldn't be happening this often...or this close together..."

N'geal made a derisive sound, "This has to be the crime-rings' doing."

Fenris nodded solemnly in agreement, then turned back to the patiently waiting Sephiroth.

"Erm... I guess I should start from the beginning," Fenris scratched his head sheepishly. "How did he explain it again..." he muttered to himself and paused to gather his thoughts, "well, as you might have already known or guessed, there are more worlds out there than the ones we lived in—entire universes, as numerous as the stars. Think of these worlds as stars, and think of them as all swirling around each other, looking like a whirlpool. Well, actually what's really swirling around is this... flow of energy... that flows through all the worlds and connects them all... like a... like a..."

"Like a Lifestream?" Sephiroth suggested.

"Yes! Man! that's a good name for it! And I was going to call it something lame like, 'The Force' or something! 'Lifestream', that's a perfect name for it! I think I'm going to use it from now on," declared Fenris,

"It does have a name pup," said N'geal, "it's called the Aether Currents, or 'The Currents' for short."

Fenris cleared his throat in an attempt to cover his embarrassment, then continued, "So this...Current flows around the multiverse and gathers around the Inner Axis, that is, Heaven and Hell. But before reaching there, they pass through the Outer Axis, which is the Dream Realm and the Spirit Realm. And after that, they pass through the Wastelands before they enter Hell Proper." Fenris began to indicate the different places with pieces of leftover food pellets.

"The Dream Realm is exactly what it says it is. It is a realm of thoughts and feelings, nothing physical or material exists there. The Spirit Realm is home to a whole lot of different creatures, and to the Watchers. You might have heard of them, they're usually referred to as Gods of Death, or Soul Reapers, or the like. They are the guardians of the...Currents, they travel all across the different worlds and watch for anything that should not be there, or should be there but is not. Heaven and Hell are the native lands of angels and demons, respectively, but other beings live there too."

"So since everything is connected by the Currents, sometimes major catastrophes happen in some worlds that disturbs its flow, and sometimes vortices form and suck things from one world to another. Most of the time they don't go into the Axis. Even when they do they usually land in the Spirit Realm. Only in rare occasions do they land as far in as the Wastelands."

"So you think that someone's been tampering with this 'Current' to make these vortices happen more often than they should?" asked Sephiroth, "as a way to acquire slaves?"

Fenris nodded, "demon lords like to show off to each other, and one way to do so is to own rare slaves, and they are willing to pay a LOT for those. Rare slaves are usually either creatures who live in the Wastelands that are very hard to catch—like that firedrake or those plants, or unlucky ones, like us, who got caught in one of those vortices and end up landing in the Wastelands."

"The Wastelands is neutral territory between Heaven, Hell and the Spirit Realm." explained N'geal, "the Trinity watch each other like hawks. They forbid each other from directly interfering with the mortal worlds for fear that the other will gain too much power from gathering too many powerful beings. But anything that arrives by "accident" in the Wastelands is fair game. Although on the surface they all agree that manipulating the Aether Currents for selfish gain is wrong and illegal, only the Watchers truly care. Heaven and Hell really only care about gaining an edge over each other. The Watchers alone can't keep an eye on everything in the multiverse, and the rare-slave trade is extremely lucrative."

"There are two crime organizations in the Axis that are powerful enough to try something like this: The Loveless and The Nobodies," Fenris continued, "I'd not be surprised that such a successful slave trader as Gooey-Duck has at least _some_ connection to them."

Sephiroth silently contemplated and digested all this information. He noticed that Vincent too, was listening intently in his quiet corner. The man seemed to gather shadows and silence about himself simply by being there. Not even Fenris had been immune to this peculiar aura the ex-Turk exuded.

"You two seem to have been well-informed regarding this matter." the quiet gunman suddenly spoke, the first time he did since the night he woke.

N'geal grinned humourlessly, "Being former commander of the 1st division of a Circle army gives you some access to information in the shadier sides of Axis politics. And the wolf-pup was once in the middle of it."

Sephiroth's eyes turned to Fenris. The spiky-haired young man's clear eyes had darkened as one of his hands reached to touch a greenish tattoo on his shoulder.

"Before...being sold to Gooey-Duck, I was once sold to a mage from the 4th Circle." Fenris explained, not looking at anyone. He darted a look at the others, then shrugged, "It wasn't so bad, he treated me well enough since he used me as his bodyguard, taught me quite a lot about this place too." Neither the former general nor the ex-Turk was fooled: there was a lot that Fenris wasn't telling about his experiences as a slave.

N'geal humphed, his tail flicked angrily behind him, "His former master was a power-hungry fool. Eventually got himself and all those around him killed. When the slavers brought the pup in, he was in bad shape. They only kept him because they were aware of his former master's habit of-" The centaur stopped himself and darted a look at Fenris, then said no more but contented himself with a stomp of his hoofs and a harsh sigh.

Sephiroth's eyes went over Fenris's bare torso. The young man's bronze skin was marred by many scars. Though quite a few of those were strange to Sephiroth's experience, at least some of those looked suspiciously like the ones that he and Valentine bore from their times in the labs. So...not even this version of Zack had been able to escape this particular fate.

Sephiroth watched as Vincent's eyes scanned Fenris in similar fashion, obviously also recognizing the similarities between the wolf-eared young man's and his own collection of scars. Fenris regarded the ex-Turk back, and met his gaze with a look of understanding.

"I...apologize." said Vincent as he lowered his crimson eyes, "I didn't mean to..."

"It's alright," Fenris smiled kindly at the ex-Turk, "you were right to be cautious. Around here, you have to be careful of who you trust. One thing I've learned while in the service of my former master is that in this world, just about nobody is what they first appear to be."

Nobody said anything for quite some time after that, then suddenly, Fenris straightened and his eyes went wide.

"What is it?" asked Sephiroth.

Fenris slowly turned to him with a sheepish look on his slightly reddish face, "Umm...I haven't actually answered your question, haven't I?"

...

"Me and Inuyasha are both youkai...well, Inuyasha is a hanyou...that is...he's only half youkai, one of his parents was human...but his nose is still pretty good...that's from his youkai parent... ...I'm not making any sense, am I?"

Sephiroth shook his head.

"Well..." Fenris scratched his head and tried again, "are there any dog-youkai or wolf-youkai in your world?"

"I have seen quite a few dogs and wolves, but I have never heard of...'youkai'." answered Sephiroth, trying his best to make sense of the spiky-haired young man's babbling.

"Oh... Well do the dogs and wolves in your world have a good sense of smell?"

Sephiroth nodded, "Some of the most superior amongst all living beings."

"Then think of them in human form...with magic abilities, that's what Inuyasha and I are. I'm a wolf, by the way. And Inuyasha's a dog."

Sephiroth eyed Fenris's and Inuyasha's animal ears and nodded slowly, passing that information to the back of his mind to be processed. Part of said mind caught the word 'magic' and mused at the memories of Hojo's vehement rejection of the word.

"So you are able to identify the nature of other creatures by smell?"

Fenris nodded, "We can also identify them by other things, like their auras and the feel of their energies."

"...And you're confident in your accuracy...?"

"Oh they're _very_ accurate," said N'geal, "canid youkai are much favoured among demon lords for that very talent. There are many creatures in Hell that have the ability to disguise their true natures."

"But...you and Inuyasha were of differing opinions...last night..."

Fenris shrugged, "As sharp as our senses are, we still can't tell things we've never seen before. I trust the puppy. He's got a good nose, even though he _is_ a mangy mutt!"

"Shut up, idiot wolf." the 'mangy mutt' retorted eloquently.

Off in the other end of the cage, Nero didn't even _try_ to hide his smirk— _especially_ not after an annoyed glare from Inuyasha.

Sephiroth nodded in acknowledgement. Underneath his calm exterior however, he was battling the myriad of emotions and thoughts that were threatening to break his careful control. What does this all mean for him? Does this mean he really was human, as Inuyasha and Fenris believed? Yet he looked (and smelled) enough like a 'hybrid'—a half-demon, that even demon lords may not be able to tell the difference. What of Jenova then, was she really a demon of some sort? Had he been combined with her much like Vincent had been with his demons? The former general looked towards the pale gunman. No...it's different...in some ways. Vincent had said that he was born human. He had always known what he is. Even now, sharing the same body, he and his demons were still separate, distinct entities. Not like Sephiroth when Jenova had full control of him, he could barely tell where he began and where Jenova ended. Mako eyes then darted to Inuyasha. Silver hair, pale skin, youkai ears and claws...cat-like eyes...half-youkai. And Nero... Silver hair...pale skin, demonic appendage...half-demon. Sephiroth's own black wing shifted uneasily under his skin. Was there at least some truth to Jenova's claim to be his mother after all? Had he, after numerous deaths and resurrections, and after unwittingly traveling who knows how far across a multitude of universes, finally found a clue to his origins, or had he only found more false information. The former general closed his eyes against the unrest in his core.

 


	7. Culture Clash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Horny boys and horny demons, dead ahead.

According to N'geal, one other reason that demons favour youkai slaves is that the two beings share many similarities with one another. Apparently one of the things they share is their rather...liberal attitude towards physical intimacy. Sephiroth had always been a light sleeper. That trait had helped him many times in the past, but at this moment it is more of a liability. The ex-general scowled as he found himself an unwilling witness to Fenris's so-called, 'rabid libido'.

The wolf-youkai was currently pounding into the dog-hanyou underneath him. Inuyasha was on his elbows and knees, and since both boys' hands were restrained, it made the whole act a tad ungainly...with some obvious inconveniences. The hanyou growled impatiently as his neglected member started to weep its protest.

"I know, puppy. I'm...sorry...ah...," whispered Fenris as he nuzzled a silver-white ear, sweat beaded upon his handsome brow, "just...a little longer... then...nng...I'll be able to...take care...of you."

Inuyasha growled again and thrust back into Fenris.

"Oh _Gods_! Puppy!" Fenris moaned and buried his face into Inuyasha's thick silver mane.

Sephiroth glanced down at the effect that this was having on his young, _male_ body, then glanced around the cage at the rest of his cellmates. None of them were asleep either. Nero was also scowling in his place at the far side of the cage, obviously similarly affected and not appreciating it. Vincent...was meditating. Sephiroth has seen other Turks practice the same thing. Apparently it lets their minds shut out the outside world, lets them focus inwards, and helps them through difficult situations. Sephiroth cursed whoever it was who decided to omit the training of this technique for SOLDIER.

At another barely concealed moan, Nero abruptly got up and flopped himself down underneath Inuyasha. The hanyou startled when he felt the hybrid's lips around his sensitive, engorged shaft, then grunted and shifted his position so he could return the favour. Fenris sucked in a breath at the sight and his pace became erratic.

Sephiroth shot another begrudging look at Vincent. The ex-Turk remained perfectly cool and comfortable in his own world. Sephiroth decided right then that he absolutely refuse to give in to his treacherous body and jerk off in front of the ridiculously adaptive ex-Turk. Not that he really could anyway the way his hands were bound. Perhaps mental images of Hojo in a tutu will be of aid?

"Hey..."

Sephiroth was suddenly brought out of his rather disturbing self-inflicted thoughts and found Fenris staring at him barely a hand's length away. Behind him, Inuyasha and Nero dozed on the floor beside each other.

"Sorry about that... I can help you with _that_ , if you like." Fenris offered apologetically.

Sephiroth stared into the familiar face of Zack Fair.

"No."

Fenris blinked in puzzlement, he hadn't expected Sephiroth to refuse the offer — especially not in _that_ condition.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Fenris was obviously not convinced, but he didn't push the issue. He then glanced uncertainly at Vincent.

The ex-Turk remained completely unchanged and unmoving in his meditation. He could have been a statue for all the effect that the antics of Fenris and co. had had on him.

"He seems to be in no distress." Sephiroth said dryly.

Fenris nodded slowly with a thoughtful look on his face. He looked back at Sephiroth when the ex-general shifted his weight uncomfortably. A questioning eyebrow raised under the messy bangs.

Sephiroth sighed, "For the last time Fenris: yes, I am sure. I'm _fine_."

N'geal's suppressed chuckle reached his ears from a few cages down, as well as Genesis's soft snort. Sephiroth frowned. Apparently these long-time residents of Hell were quite used to such liberal and public practice of sex. Although the young males had tried to be as quiet as possible, both the centaur and the firedrake had long since been awakened. And both of them simply glanced towards Sephiroth's cage and then went back to a light doze as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Not like the human children. Husky was still sound asleep, but Nana's apparently enhanced hearing was not doing her any favours. She had her back firmly turned to the rutting trio, and even under the pale starlight from the plant-creatures' 'window', she looked like she was blushing from head to toe.

"Actually Fenris," said Sephiroth, "there _is_ something I'd like you to help me with."

Fenris's ears perked to attention, "What is it?"

Sephiroth paused as he considered his question. "Have you...ever seen anyone in this world that looks very much like someone you knew from your own world?"

 

—

 

Vincent's mind had refocused on the outside world as soon as Fenris approached Sephiroth. Despite his tranquil outward appearance, he had been very busy, fighting a battle within his own mind to keep a tight rein on both his own body's reactions to the youths' activities, and the restlessness of his demons.

_WHY NOT??_

_Why not?_

_They are strong._

_Willing._

_Looks fun._

_I like them._

_We like them._

_And they are not human, so you do not need to worry about infecting them with your 'monstrosity'._ Chaos protested bitterly.

_Doesn't matter, we are NOT rutting here._

_Why not?_

_Why not??_

_It HAS been over thirty-years... perhaps you don't remember how?_ Hellmasker gave Vincent a mental poke with his chainsaw, and the other demons immediately perked up at the proposed explanation for their Host's strange refusal to participate in the mating session, especially when there were such fit and ready partners right in front of him.

_We remember._

_We know how._

_We can teach you._

_We can show you._

_It's easy._

_You just..._

_I said, NO!_ Vincent growled mentally at all of them. The demons then settled back grudgingly, muttering about hosts and idiocy.

Well it was good to know that all his demons had been recovering well from their flight with Omega and subsequent rough landing in Hell. To think that he had actually been **worried**!

Even through all this mental bickering, however, Vincent had vigilantly kept a part of his mind alert to the outside world — particularly on Sephiroth. It was clear that the actions of the young males were making the ex-general increasingly aroused...and...he _is_ Hojo's son... At the back of his mind, his demons gave a low growl at the memory.

However, the ex-Turk did not miss the subtle tension in Sephiroth's well-defined muscles when Fenris gave his offer, and was as surprised as Fenris was by Sephiroth's resolute refusal. Odd behaviour, considering Sephiroth appears to be a healthy young male on all accounts, and was undoubtedly the receiver of much amorous attention as ShinRa's most celebrated war hero. And there was no disgust in the ex-general's tone when he refused Fenris, only something...something that Vincent couldn't quite name.

_He's trying to court you._ Chaos suddenly said.

_...WHAT???_ In their shared mindscape, Vincent stared at his most powerful demon, dumbfounded, and together in a flurry of excitement, all his demons piped up.

_We've been keeping watch too._

_He wasted no time._

_No time at all._

_Made sure he had the strongest Claim on you than the rest._

_...He had what?_

_Claim._

_...How?_

_He licked your wounds_

_Wrestled you when you refused to accept his Claim._

_Strong._

_Decisive._

_Successfully pinned you._

_Looked at your injuries._

_Despite being unable to strengthen his Claim._

_Took care of you._

_Trying to court you._

Vincent resisted the urge to rub his temples. Took him and the demons 30 years to learn how to co-exist with one another and communicate with one another like this. Likely will take another 30 before they actually start to make sense to each other.

_...What is this..."Claim"?_ Vincent tried again to understand the reasonings of his feral, incoherent "roommates".

_You need a strong Claim to become bonded mates._

_Very strong._

_He doesn't have that yet._

_But you do._

_...I what?_

_He doesn't remember though._

_He could have had a stronger Claim if he did._

_But the other males recognize that his Claim is the strongest out of them all._

_The Spirit Wolf asked his permission to approach you._

_He said no._

_He said no for himself too._

_He refused the Spirit Wolf's invitation to mate._

_The Spirit Wolf is a fine partner._

_Indeed._

_Agree._

_But he refused._

_He's trying to court you._

As Vincent had expected, understanding was impossible.

The demon-ridden man bit back a long-suffering sigh as he felt the beginnings of a headache. None of the demons' fragmented thoughts and feelings made it any more likely that the Silver General of all people, would begin to try to "court" him any time soon. The reasons for his rejection of Fenris's offer of "help" more than likely stemmed from elsewhere, and he had some ideas as to where.

Being a former Turk, Vincent had been helping Reeve dig up and organize some of ShinRa's old classified files in order to understand the extent of the damage the power company had done to the planet and to innocent lives. He had seen the files on Sephiroth, Cloud, and Zack, as well as the files on Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley and Project G. He hadn't failed to notice the similarities between his fellow prisoners and the photos and descriptions on those files. Sephiroth's question to Fenris had pretty much confirmed his speculations on those similarities. Likely that Sephiroth rejected the offer of "help" from Fenris because the wolf youkai looked too much like the long-deceased 1st class SOLDIER, Zack Fair, who, according to the files and Cloud's memories, had been one of the very few people who been close to the former general.

_What about that thing that he did..._

_We've seen it before._

_In Host's memories._

_You humans call it...'kissing'_

_It's in books._

_Colourful ones_

_With pictures._

_Oh! I saw those too!_

_There was a princess, and a prince, and fairies..._

_Wasn't he supposed to do it BEFORE you wake up?_

_Is it bad if he did it after?_

_Don't think so._

_The kissing couple ALWAYS become mated with one another in the end._

_Yes._

_Yes._

_Always._

_Always._

Then the demons all gave an impression of looking at their Host expectantly.

Vincent gave up trying to talk to his demons, and chose to re-focus on Sephiroth and Fenris's conversation instead.

 

—

 

"Someone who looks like someone else I knew?" at Sephiroth's question, Fenris tilted his head and cocked up an ear in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I mean...someone who looks and acts exactly like...like an old friend you once knew, but he is...somewhat different. And you know that he can't possibly be the same person." Sephiroth's brows knitted together as he tried to sort out the words to explain his questioning thoughts.

Fenris hummed in thought, then he nodded, "Yes, yes I have. It's because...hmm...how did he explain it again... Well, apparently, the multiverse is not...linear... It's all twisted and folded and mirrored and whatnots. So it's possible that different versions of the same person exists in different worlds...or something like that. In all honesty, I don't quite understand it myself," the young man scratched his head, "but it's like, you have the same person at the base, but they're also somewhat...different, because they lived through different events, met different people, and...yeah..."

Sephiroth considered the broken explanation for a moment, then he noticed that Fenris's steel-blue eyes had drifted towards N'geal's cage. Sephiroth followed his gaze. The centaur had already fallen asleep. Both steel-blue and mako green lingered for a moment on the familiar, yet not familiar form, before meeting one another again.

"In my world..." said Fenris quietly, "he...was a member of my pack. He was my teacher, my guardian. After my father passed away, he took me under his wing as if I were his own." The wolf-youkai lowered his eyes, "I wonder how he's doing now..."

"In mine, he was...a good friend. One of the few I've had..." Sephiroth paused, "I've not seen him for a very long time..." not even in the Lifestream... "...and likely never will."

Fenris nodded, and the two men sat silent for a few moments.

"...Have you ever thought about going back, to your own world, to see your teacher's present condition?" Sephiroth suddenly asked.

Fenris's eyes snapped up.

"I know what you're thinking," the wolf-youkai whispered urgently, almost pleading, "please Seph, listen to me: don't try it. You will only get yourself hurt. No matter what you really are, you and Valentine both look and smell too much like true hybrids. Even if you manage to escape from Gooey-Duck, the rest of Hell will eagerly hunt you down. Demon-human matings are taboo, and by law, hybrids are to be caught and enslaved on sight."

"What about yourself then?" Sephiroth's mako eyes burned steadily into steel-blue, "Have you never thought about it? Never tried?"

Fenris sighed, "Seph, the Axis is a _very_ complex place. There are many things that you haven't seen, many things that you haven't yet come to understand. All I can tell you right now is that there are very, VERY good reasons to be cautious. And besides..." the young man's calloused fingers drifted towards the tattoo on his shoulder, "It's too late for me. I can't go back... Not anymore..."


	8. Point of No Return

Fenris was right about a lot of things. Firedrake-Genesis was every bit as stubborn as the human one Sephiroth knew. However, his current condition was not exactly "alright". Apparently just like the human version, this version of Genesis's mind also worked in similar ways to Sephiroth's. Any weakness that Sephiroth had found in his restraints but had not yet tried to exploit, Genesis did — with no success. By the look on Gooey-Duck's face when he exacted his punishments onto the unfortunate firedrake, Sephiroth wondered if the wily slave trader had purposely placed those seeming weaknesses just to trick his prisoners into a sense of false hope, so that he may have some opportunity and excuse to indulge in his sadistic nature. Or to give his prisoners a sense of despair, that everything they try would only end in failure. Probably both.

Fenris and N'geal watched Genesis's struggles with the solemn quietness of ones who had seen such things play out many times before. And perhaps even experienced it themselves. Fenris never did elaborate on what he meant that night, about not being able to go back to his own world, and Sephiroth was never one to pry. He himself understood all too well that kind of solitude and the need to retreat into it.

The look in Inuyasha and Nero's eyes told that they had tried similar tactics as Genesis, and likely met similar ends. But although they watched tight-jawed and silent, their eyes still flashed with signs of stubborn, prideful spirits not yet ready to give up. Vincent simply sat quietly through it all, his face impassive. But Sephiroth was not fooled. He was quite familiar with the facade of ease and the calculating look that surfaced subtly from time to time in those crimson eyes. Vincent was a true Turk, whether his current title bears an 'ex' or not.

Genesis was still not eating or drinking. Combined with the torture, his condition was fast deteriorating. Gooey-Duck only sneered at him and threatened to force-feed him if necessary, and informed him, almost in anticipation, that he'll make it as unpleasant as possible for the firedrake. Gooey-Duck also informed the firedrake in almost transparent glee, that he can fight all he wants, but his pride is worth nothing before a demon lord. Genesis answered the slave trader with only defiant indifference, but under a careful eye, one could tell from subtle signs in his posture and the air around him that he was beginning to feel the dark cold of despair.

This day, it seems the slave trader was in a particularly sadistic mood. Not only did he rile the now mostly apathetic firedrake into once again smacking the food tray out at the slave trader, he also successfully goaded Inuyasha into a temperamental outburst.

Inuyasha scowled as he licked at his whip marks. Fenris helped him with the ones he couldn't reach.

"What is that stuff he puts in his whip?" Inuyasha wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"It's made from a plant called Agonia. Its poison slows your body's natural healing." answered Fenris, "You should have known better than to let Gooey-Duck get to you like that."

"Yeah, well, it was worth it. Did you see the look on his face?" Inuyasha gave a fang-showing grin, but then yelped in pain as Fenris pointedly pressed an especially hard lick on the hanyou's raw back.

Sephiroth saw a small movement in the firedrake's shoulders and recognized it as the sign of one of Genesis's secret smirks. The headstrong firedrake probably agreed with Inuyasha and thought that _his_ retaliation had been worth the price also.

Suddenly, something bounced off of the firedrake's head, then before Genesis could react, another followed it. The red-head stared incredulously at the brown food pellets and then turned to the culprit.

"That's for payback," grinned N'geal, "I was beginning to think you were aiming those tail-slaps deliberately to include me in the firing range of these things."

Genesis humphed and turned away again.

"You know you're only making it harder on yourself," sighed N'geal, "you should at least eat something. Gooey-Duck's only small fry compared to a true demon lord. You will need all your strength when the time comes when you must face one of those."

"Just leave me to rot." Genesis answered bitterly.

"And are you content to let it end like this? Rotting in a slave cage?" Sephiroth spoke up, coldly, "If so then you are nothing but a coward."

Genesis's eyes blazed as he raised himself up from the floor, "And who are you to speak to me thus?"

"Right now, I am exactly what you are: merchandize waiting to be sold," Sephiroth returned Genesis's glare with one of equal intensity, "if you wish to admit defeat and die as that then that's your choice. But I ask you to kindly refrain from burdening the rest of us with your foolishness."

The firedrake looked ready to burst with rage.

Fenris groaned, "No, wait, let me translate. This guy's not very good at expressing himself you see. What he meant was: if you continue like this, you will only die in vain. None of us want to see that. We are after-all, in the same boat...quite literally."

Genesis clenched his fists and continued to glare at Sephiroth, but held himself from further outbursts.

"Ya know, I'd suggest a change of strategy too," shrugged Fenris, "I mean, your current one hasn't gotten you anywhere, has it?"

Genesis shifted his smoldering glare to the wolf-youkai. But after a moment of tense silence, his shoulders slacked and he turned away.

"I am not... I CAN not... _bow_ to that...that..." he said finally, his clenched muscles shook with suppressed emotion.

"It is only a bow if you think of it as one." Vincent suddenly spoke up in his quiet voice, "Think of it as nothing but a way for you to reach your sustenance — a means to an end — a way to gather and preserve your strength for what lies ahead. It is only your body performing a necessary action. If your heart is strong, it'll not be changed."

The firedrake only sat unmoving and was silent for a very long time after that. However, when everybody else's attention had turned elsewhere, Sephiroth spied him taking the pellets that N'geal had thrown into his cage and putting them into his mouth. As if sensing his gaze, Genesis lifted his eyes to Sephiroth's.

"I shall get myself out of this before you do," said the firedrake, his pale eyes burned with steady determination and a small, challenging smirk tugged at his lips, "and I will dance on your grave."

Sephiroth smirked back, "Challenge accepted."

—

Vincent watched all of this with a mask of indifference. That speech he gave the firedrake was one that he often had to give himself in the past. And to his demons.

Chaos had raged about having to get into a submissive posture for such a lesser demon. Vincent tried to placate the demon by saying that it was only _him_ doing the postures, not Chaos. It didn't work.

 _You are my Host. We are in the same body. Joined together by the unholy sorcery of the arrogant ones in white._ Chaos had said angrily, _You and I are one and the same. It matters not which one of us is doing it._

Vincent had sighed mentally and reminded the proud demon of how they had survived their ordeal at the hands of Hojo, and that this was nothing in comparison. That worked much better.

With that matter settled, Vincent was free to let his mind wonder about Sephiroth. The former world-destroyer had shown none of the brutality and cruelty that had been consistently present in all the encounters that Vincent had had with him since he joined AVALANCHE. In fact, the Sephiroth that was now sitting in front of him seemed to be a decent man who, although cold and distant, was capable of sympathy for others. Had Sephiroth been telling the truth when he claimed that JENOVA no longer influenced him? Had he now reverted back to who he was before finding the lies and the half-truths about his origins in Nibelheim? Vincent ventured a glance at the ex-general, only to find mako-green eyes already watching him. The expression on the former general's face, though subtle, bore incredible resemblance to Lucrecia's when she was trying to work out a puzzle or confounding results from an experiment. Crimson eyes quickly darted away, fleeing from the memory.

No resemblance to his birth mother had yet surfaced in the former general's personality however, whether the destructive one that Vincent was more familiar with, or this current one. In fact, Sephiroth's current personality does seem to match what Cloud had recalled from the memories he gained from Zack. But could it just be a ruse? A trick? Somehow, the ever-suspicious ex-Turk didn't truly believe that.

Suddenly, the door of the room hit the wall with a bang and Gooey-Duck rushed in. He tossed a small jar at Fenris and pointed at Inuyasha, "Get him to a presentable state! I'll tolerate no slack from either of you!" At the same time, his lackeys pulled N'geal from his cage and shoved him into Genesis's. Gooey-Duck tossed the centaur a similar jar and barked the same orders. Soon after the slave trader signaled his exit from the room with another loud bang of the door, the ship hummed and shuddered and began to pick up speed.

Fenris opened the jar and sniffed, his brows furrowed.

"What is it?" Inuyasha asked warily, his ears flat against his head.

"It's...a medicinal ointment...and it contains the antidote to Agonia's poison."

Ignoring his cellmates' incredulous and puzzled looks, Fenris quickly went over to the corner of the cage, opened the floorboard and dropped down to the vent, "K-6, you there? You've any idea what's going on?"

The voice that drifted up from the vent was tinged with nervousness and fear, and Fenris's face tightened in apprehension.

"We are hurrying to Junon ahead of schedule," Fenris informed everybody when he finally straightened up from the vent, "because there's been word out that one of the Archdaemons of the Inner Circles has entered 5th Circle's borders and is heading for Junon looking to buy some new slaves."

N'geal and Genesis visibly tensed. Nero's eyes flashed then darkened.

"What does that mean?" asked Husky. Both he and Nana had now pressed themselves to the front of their cage.

"It means at least one of us is going to end up a slave to one of the most dangerous demons that Hell has to offer." said Nero darkly.

—

"Hell is divided into a total of nine Circles, and those are grouped into the Outer, Mid, and Inner Circles. The Outer Circles is home to the weakest demons, the Inner the strongest. The 7th, 8th and 9th Circles make up the Inner Circles. 9th Circle is just one giant prison for the most dangerous individuals of the Axis. And the 7th and 8th Circles house many former prisoners of the 9th. Each Circle is ruled by an Archdaemon. And all three of the current Archdaemons of the Inner Circles had sat in 9th Circle's prison cells at least once." N'geal explained as he tended to Genesis's wounds with the ointment given by Gooey-Duck. The firedrake, surprisingly enough, sat quietly and allowed it.

"The Inner Circles don't actually use slaves. It's long been proven that the inhabitants of those Circles will mercilessly exploit anything that hinders one from defending oneself. Wide gaps in social status being one of those hinderances. Only the Archdaemons kept slaves, because it is a status symbol among them. Sometimes, some demons will try to smuggle in slaves to feel better about themselves, and sometimes an Archdaemon will allow it to go on. The previous Archdaemon of 7th Circle did just that. On the day he was killed, the entire Circle broke into violent riots in celebration of his death. The smuggled slaves bore the brunt of the uncontrolled venting of violence. None of them survived. The current Archdaemon of the 7th strictly forbids slaves in the Circle." N'geal explained grimly. Fenris repeated it all to those who couldn't understand the centaur as he tended to Inuyasha with his jar of ointment.

"B-but...surely there will be other slave merchants there? That Archdaemon doesn't have to choose one of _us_ , does he?" Nana asked, her small body quivered.

N'geal sighed, "Gooey-Duck is one of the top slave merchants of Hell, known for his reliable supply of strong, rare slaves. Any Archdaemon looking to buy new slaves is sure to visit his stall at some point. He also has one of the fastest ships, and never fails to appear where there's business to be had. In fact, he's always among the first slave trader to arrive and one of the first to make a sale."

The centaur paused to study the rapidly changing colours of light that passed by the plant-creatures' window. "It will probably be just past sunrise in Junon when we arrive. You kids better hope that these Archdaemons are not early-risers and you get bought by someone kinder before they come."

Sephiroth frowned at the coloured lights. By the feel of the ship's acceleration and the amount of time it took, he was positive that they were now traveling at a speed he had never thought possible for a ship of any kind. The yellowish sky peeking in from the "windows" had also melted into streaks of colours that span the visible spectrum. Evidently, just as Fenris had said, there were still many things about this world that he did not yet know. Sephiroth's mako-green eyes scanned the room for his "travel companions". The ones who seemed to have the best chance at escaping were N'geal and Fenris. They clearly hold plenty of knowledge about this world, and the experience to deal with its challenges. N'geal had once been a high-rank officer in an Archdaemon's army, so he was certain to be both intelligent and strong, as well as very capable of leadership — much like the Angeal that he knew had been. And many in this room appear to be formidable fighters, including Fenris, Inuyasha, Nero, Genesis, Vincent and Sephiroth himself.

Even the children, if what Fenris said about demon lords having low opinions of humans was true, then there must be some reason for them to be placed here among rare slaves, targeted toward high-ranking buyers. Nana had said that they were "a little different". And her enhanced hearing, even beyond the sensitivity of the ex-general's, was definitely one of those differences. What others might there be? And then there's the very useful informations from K-6. So with all these resources, what was stopping N'geal from organizing a break-out? Language, maybe? But he had the friendship and aid of Fenris. And most of them here could communicate with the centaur anyways. Or it could just be the centaur's strong sense of honour, which he obviously shared with Angeal. For a military commander of an Archdaemon to end up in a slave cage, there must have been a story behind it. Or perhaps it was an issue with trust? Although they all seem to be people that Sephiroth could count on in the battlefield, the ex-general had long learnt some very hard lessons on trust — particularly from when he was still in the labs, when he had still been new to the world and naive.

What of Fenris then? What had beaten down this other-world double of a certain strong-willed 1st class SOLDIER, so much that he had completely lost hope of escape and was only hoping for a kind buyer? At this very moment, the young wolf-youkai was giving the puzzling ex-general pointed looks as he cautioned his cellmates that there will be a lot of demon lords walking about in the slave market, and that whatever happens, do NOT do anything rash.

The wolf-youkai had told Sephiroth that hybrids were highly prized as slaves for demon lords. Slavers will not hesitate to hunt down a couple of hybrid look-a-likes as if they were true hybrids. Demon lords tend to be confident to the point of arrogance when it comes to their vaunted senses, and Fenris had rolled his eyes and said that he had seen them get things wrong many times before. Although slave merchants such as Gooey-Duck frequently use a set of testing methods to differentiate between hybrids and other creatures with similar traits, so that they can haggle their price with the crime-rings or individual slave-hunters, demon lords themselves care about those as much — or as little — as trophy collectors care about the subtle physical variations and habits between different species of marshland death-mongers. As long as their 'catch' had shiny pelts or large horns, and looked good hanging in their halls, then that's good enough for them.

Sephiroth sighed inwardly. What Fenris had said did make sense. And indeed, escaping from this ship would only be the beginning. Surviving and keeping from being caught again would prove to be the more difficult task, especially with the limited knowledge he had of this world. Plus he had no idea how he was going to escape from this world of slaving demons and go back to his own. Masamune was close now. Almost close enough for Sephiroth to feel its familiar hilt in his grasp. But "almost" was not good enough.

Sephiroth looked over at Vincent. By the way the ex-Turks's crimson eyes took in everything around him, the ex-general knew that escape had been on the gunman's mind as well. But would he be willing to help the former general...in _anything_? The ex-Turk's highly guarded attitude towards him had hardly budged over the past few days, curse that man's stubborn heart.

Sephiroth hadn't yet had the chance to ask the ex-Turk the questions that had been plaguing his thoughts. Vincent was a Turk, and Turks were sure to have in-depth knowledge of ShinRa secrets. And for a Turk who had been floating in a mako tank in Hojo's lab...he must have at least _some_ information about the experiments that had made Genesis, Angeal...and himself. Although Sephiroth was more than reluctant to discuss such personal topics as the questions of his origins with so many ears around, the future seemed very uncertain as of this moment, and he may not get another chance to ask.

"Vincent..."

The ex-Turk's red eyes immediately snapped to Sephiroth and all his muscles tensed. Sephiroth barely held back a growl. In all the days that they've spent together in this Gaia-be-damned cage, could the ex-Turk _still_ not believe that Sephiroth was no longer the madman he knew before?

Even more baffling to the former general than the impossibly stubborn ex-Turk, however, was himself. He had always been alone. With few exceptions of the people that had been in his life, he had always felt different, disconnected. Whatever others thought of him, he never really cared. He had always coldly regarded both darting gazes and hushed whispers, and reverent stares and gushing praises. And he knew that the ex-Turk had good reason to be wary of him after having fought alongside Cloud to prevent his mad self from destroying the planet. So why was the gunman's attitude towards him bothering him so? Sephiroth found himself wanting to shake the ex-Turk, to demand that he stop being so damned guarded around him.

Before Sephiroth could say or do anything further however, the ship suddenly gave a shudder and began to decelerate. The changing colours through the 'window' also slowed and gradually subsided to reveal a sky of rust red. The sounds of the ship's crew hurrying about could be heard even through the thick walls, and an air of anticipation and apprehension rose about the cages. They have arrived.


	9. Port

As the slave ship entered the trading port, it was stopped and inspected by some solemn-looking people in all-black suits carrying scythe-like weapons with black handles. Watchers, Fenris later told his cellmates. They gave especially close scrutiny to the rare slaves, and questioned Gooey-Duck on Husky and Nana. Gooey-Duck fended them off with practiced ease, skillfully burying the Watchers in a flurry of words and paperwork. Neither Sephiroth nor Vincent caught the Watchers' attentions though. As the Watchers turned away from his cage, the deceit unnoticed, Sephiroth caught Gooey-Duck smirking to himself behind the Watchers' backs. In the end, the Watchers found nothing incriminating and allowed the ship to continue on its way.

It was a wonder to watch the ship change itself into a slaver's stall. It apparently didn't stop at the harbour but continued on inland somehow until it reached the slave market. Once there, coloured lights ran down its walls, and those walls receded and shrank to become poles connected by colourful flags. It looks like Gooey-Duck had amassed an impressive collection of slaves, who were now revealed to Sephiroth for the first time.

The weakness hex on the slaves' collars were turned off. The chains that bound their hands and feet were removed. It was so that the slaves will look more lively to their prospective masters. Sephiroth stretched his muscles for the first time since what seemed to be an eternity. The rest of his cellmates did the same, except for Vincent and Inuyasha. Sephiroth supposed that the rumours he heard about the ex-Turk sleeping in a coffin for thirty years straight were true. Maybe even that ridiculous rumour that he had _back-flipped_ out of his coffin right out of his thirty-year-long sleep had been true too. Muscle atrophy apparently means nothing to the man.

Despite their new freedom of movement, their chances of escape had not increased. One measure of security was replaced by another. Gooey-Duck's lackeys littered the premises, carrying wicked-looking chains and whips. And there was a great number of various kinds of demons walking about the stalls.

The demons were mostly humanoid in physical appearance. They had some variations: some had horns some did not, some had scales some did not, some were more human-like, some where more animal-like, etc. But they all had long pointy ears, clawed fingers and long sharp canines, if not an entire mouthful of sharp teeth. With the help of his own demons, Vincent found it easy to differentiate between what was called 'demon lords' and other demons. From the feel of their energies, demon lords were markedly more powerful, and had an additional layer of energy buzzing about the distinctive swirls of energy that was typical for all demons.

"Hey, it looks like Gooey-Duck put K-6 back in with the other Mechas." pointed Fenris. Sephiroth and Vincent looked over to find that indeed, there was a familiar-looking black-and-white cat trying to offer fortune-telling to its cellmates as a gesture of peace. The other Mechas were not impressed though. They growled at K-6 and the dejected robot cat retreated to one corner of the cage.

Sephiroth soon worked out that the different coloured flags indicated the rarity and consequent price range of the different sections of slaves. Since their arrival, most of the buyers that had come by seemed to be lesser demon lords. They came and gawked at Sephiroth's section with raw desire and envy in their eyes, but then shook their heads at the price and chose something from the lower-end sections.

N'geal, now back in his own cage, recognized a lot of these demon lords and pointed out some of the more interesting ones.

"That's Tuesti, or better known by many as 'The Reeve'," the centaur nodded towards a familiar bearded man, "he's from a family of minor demon lords, but he is much valued and respected in Hell for his skills in city-planning and his talent and ingenuity for anything mechanical. He's responsible for the planning of most of Hell's newer cities, hence the nickname."

"He is also known for his kindness towards others and towards his slaves," N'geal studied the Mecha slave-girl that Tuesti had brought with him. She had long pale-yellow hair, large, innocent brown eyes, and a pair of down-turned white-and-pink animal-like mechanical 'ears' poking out from the sides of her head. It appeared that the demon lord was letting the slave-girl do the choosing of his next slave.

"Rumour has it that he is particularly fond of one of his Mecha slaves, one who looks like a young girl with very long hair. That's probably her. It looks like he's here to find a companion for her."

The Mecha girl seemed to have suddenly noticed something; she tugged at Tuesti's sleeve and pointed towards K-6.

"What an interesting-looking Mecha," the demon version of Reeve went over and studied the robot cat, "do you have a name?"

"My name is whatever you decide, m'lord," K-6 answered nervously, "my serial number is K-6 1337-HAX-0R."

"Would you like me to take him out and have a closer look, my lord?" Gooey-Duck promptly appeared at the prospective buyer's heel.

"No, that's not needed," said Tuesti as he affectionately patted the Mecha girl's head, "if Chi likes him, then we'll take him. Your serial number is a bit...odd though. Hmm...how about I call you, 'Cait Sith'?"

The robot cat's tail raised in happiness, "Oh that's a wonderful name! Thank you master! Cait Sith! From now on, I will be Cait Sith!"

"Ya think the Reeve would be interested in taking a wolf-youkai as well?" Fenris looked on in envy.

N'geal chuckled, "Not unless that's clockwork ticking away in your chest there pup. Tuesti is also known for his many quirks. One of which is that he always has his nose buried in his work and seems to have little interest in anything that doesn't involve cities or mechanical parts."

Fenris's ears drooped.

As Reeve led his slaves to exit the stall, Cait Sith suddenly turned back and struck a dramatic pose: "Good bye my friends, this is the final, final farewell! Don't forget me, even if another K-6 comes along! You take care of yourselves!"

The Mecha girl blinked and tilted her head at her new companion in curiosity, then she mimicked his pose. Reeve chuckled in amusement and gently ushered his slaves away.

"The little lucky bastard," Fenris sighed as he waved back at the receding form of the black-and-white cat, "I sure am going to miss him."

—

Vincent and his demons watched when Gooey-Duck and Reeve haggled over Cait Sith's price. He knew that this world's Cait Sith may not be exactly the same as the one in his own, but he was pretty sure that the small robot cat didn't have half the abilities and talents that Gooey-Duck was boasting. It was only moments after Reeve's departure that Gooey-Duck turned to another buyer and claimed another slave to be something that his demons' senses and insight disagreed — probably at an inflated price. Raven brows furrowed.

"Does the merchant not risk angering the demon lords when he deceives them about a slave's origins or price?" Vincent wondered out loud.

Fenris came up beside him. The wolf-youkai probably assumed that the gunman was asking for himself and Sephiroth.

"Only if they catch him in the act, but usually they don't make too much of a fuss about it. Heck, slave traders are _expected_ to try to deceive their buyers. All of them do it. But of course, some are better liars than others. And of course, someone like Gooey-Duck would know how to deal with demon lords. Demon lords are very fussy about their reputations. If they don't notice anything and only find out later that they've been deceived, then it is seen as a sign of their own incompetence. So when that happens, they'll be more concerned with hiding their blunder than getting revenge on the merchants. "

"And what of the slaves?" asked Nero.

Fenris shrugged, "I don't know. It depends on the master I guess. They probably won't be too happy about it, but still, slave are very expensive. And honestly, I don't know if those slaves would be any better off if a demon lord exposes the lie before they buy them. Every slave trader is sure to have at least some connection to the crime rings. The crime rings are after all, major providers of new slaves. And...in some cases...like when it involves suspicious vortices...they _encourage_ these deceptions." The wolf-youkai finished with a meaningful look at Vincent and Sephiroth.

"Yes, to both buyer and seller, a slave's life is only worth the price they're sold," N'geal sighed, "I've been witness to some of the...less fortunate incidents. Your best hope is to be sold for as high a price as possible. That way you'll be less expendable."

Sephiroth watched quietly as more and more slaves were sold and taken away. As the minutes wore on, more and more customers crowded into the stall, and demons in more and more elaborate robes, who exuded an air of power and arrogance about them began entering the stall and ventured ever closer to the rare-slave section. He looked towards the ex-Turk. It may be now or never.

"Vincent..."

Once again, those red eyes snapped to him and those muscles tensed. Sephiroth bit down his temper and continued, "Vincent, I've seen you before, haven't I...? In the lab..."

Just then, a group of three demons entered the stall, and suddenly everybody seemed to freeze. Even Gooey-Duck's face went slack. Vincent and Sephiroth instantly recognized two of the trio to be demon versions of Tseng and Reno. They both had a pair of horns poking out of their hair and twisting around their skulls, and had the characteristic long pointed ears of demons. Tseng's hair was longer and tied in a loose ponytail. Reno was missing his goggles, and instead of having twin red tattoos on his cheekbones, he had twin dark dashes under his eyes that somewhat resembled teardrops.

Standing between the two men was a petite young woman who looked to be around Cloud's age. Her hair and eyes were a shade darker than Reno's red mane. She had no horns, though she did have the long pointed ears. And she had a long, dark-coloured tail that resembled that of a lion's.

_Careful, that one is dangerous._ Chaos warned.

The young woman took no notice of the tension in the air around her and casually strolled around the cages, looking at the slaves. Everyone gradually resumed whatever they were doing before the three demons' arrival, but every so often, someone's eyes would dart their way.

"It can't be..." breathed N'geal, "that's Tah'rh, Archdaemon of the 7th."

Fenris looked in confusion at N'geal and Gooey-Duck's stunned faces, "What's wrong? We've been expecting one of them, haven't we?"

"But I didn't think it'd be the 7th..." N'geal muttered as his brows furrowed in thought, "Tah'rh had always been adamant against having slaves of any sort in the 7th, even for herself. But," the centaur sighed, "I supposed if the pressure is persistent enough, anyone can be persuaded to give way."

"I heard she's very temperamental, that she killed the previous Archdaemon of 7th Circle in a fit of rage, that even other Archdaemons fear her and shun her. Is that true?" Nero studied the unimposing petite figure. All the other demon lords — even Tseng and Reno — had come wearing their fine, formal, dark-coloured robes, yet the Archdaemon of 7th Circle was dressed only in casual-looking white sleeveless turtleneck and white pants that reached just below her knees. Oddly enough, she was also barefooted.

"It's true," nodded N'geal, "since taking over the position of Archdaemon, she has proven to be a maverick who willfully refuses to play by the rules. Her refusal to acquire slaves even as an Archdaemon is just one example. But more importantly, she's one of the Undying."

"What does that mean?" Vincent asked when N'geal went silent again in his thoughts.

The centaur's lips curved into a dark grin, "It means exactly what it says. The Undying are an absolute bitch to kill."

"Great," moaned Fenris, "with _my_ luck, I'll probably be the first one she picks."

However, the Archdaemon didn't come to the rare-slave section for some reason, but stayed in the section with the common, low-price slaves. After a while she straightened from her scrutiny of the slaves and wondered out loud: "Why are there so many cages of imps all over the place?"

Instantly an odd sort of tension gripped the air, and by the looks on many of the onlookers' faces, Vincent got the distinct impression that what the Archdaemon had just asked was supposed to be common knowledge, perhaps even to children.

Reno coughed to divert his urge to laugh then explained, "They're different breeds, Boss. These ones here are the common Browns, those ones there are the mid-range Brindles, and the ones over there," the lanky redhead pointed to the imps beside Sephiroth's cage, "are the rare Diamond-backs."

"And that's where we should be going to find a slave befitting of your status, my lord." said Tseng, his dark eyes hard and insistent.

The Archdaemon sighed and crossed her arms in a pose that reminded Vincent very much of Yuffie.

"Fine, let's just get this over with." she said, then followed her subordinates grudgingly to the rare-slave section.

Gooey-Duck's beady eyes gleamed in predatory delight as he spotted the signs of a fat lamb ripe for slaughter.

N'geal frowned, "But then again, the Archdaemon of the 4th and several other demon lords have always said that Tah'rh is but a child trying to fill some oversized shoes, and that her ascension to the position of Archdaemon had been nothing but a fluke."

 

* * *

 

 

**Additional Disclaimer:** Chi from the anime and manga series "Chobits" belongs to CLAMP. I don't own her nor do I make any money from her.

 

But yay~~ Finally! Somebody better-looking than Gooey-Duck to call my own!! *grabs Tah'rh*

Tah'rh: *burns* *pillages* *rapes* *kills* *eats kittens* *drowns puppies* *runs with scissors* *wears socks with sandals*

Author: Yep, your run-of-the-mill evil overlord of Hell :D

 

 

 


	10. Archdaemon

At first the Archdaemon of the 7th absentmindedly wandered around the cages of rare slaves, listening to Gooey-Duck's introductions of the various slaves with only half an ear and ignoring Tseng's exasperated looks. The sight of the firedrake caught her attention, however.

"Is that...a firedrake? And a high-rank one too!" her red eyes widened in undisguised wonder and curiosity.

"Oh yes, he's one of our most recent catches, fresh out of the Wastelands, from the remote, jagged peaks of the Genesis Highlands! Not only is he high-rank, see those scales along his neck? He's royalty! A most fine catch indeed. Sure to catch the eye of all the other lords and accentuate my lord's own magnificence and power! Would my lord like to have a closer look?" asked Gooey-Duck. The Archdaemon nodded.

Gooey-Duck signaled his lackey, a huge, ugly ogre, to take Genesis from his cage and chain him to one of the poles that now stood at every intersection of the 'corridors' formed from the spaces between the cages.

Genesis was obviously not liking this. He barely managed to hold himself in check when the Archdaemon suddenly leaned forward, almost right into his nose, to inspect him.

"Hmm...he looks to be a bit...unhealthy."

"Ah...that's because we are still in the process of taming him. He's only been captured very recently, after all. But I assure you he is one magnificent beast... Would you like to see his true form, my lord?"

The Archdaemon nodded again absently. Gooey-Duck then spoke a word and the collar around Genesis's neck began to glow red. The metal bands around his wrists and ankles also began to hum with power. Genesis's eyes widened as he barely chocked back a cry of agony from the forced transformation. His form expanded, shiny red scales multiplied and spread all over his skin, and a pair of huge leather wings sprung from his pack. Finally, the dragon-like creature that was Genesis screamed in pain and rage and instinctively let out a blast of flames at the group of demons before him.

Gooey-Duck quickly erected a shimmering magic shield around himself, but he needn't have bothered. Instead of spreading out, the fire gathered itself and went straight for Reno and the Archdaemon. It swirled around them for a few seconds then disappeared harmlessly. The two redheaded demons seemed to glow slightly after that, but was otherwise completely unaffected. They didn't even bother to change their facial expressions.

Fearing that the firedrake might act recklessly, Gooey-Duck quickly spoke another word to force Genesis back to humanoid form. Genesis groaned from the pain of two forced transformations and dropped weakly to his knees.

"What do you think, my lord?" the slave trader asked tentatively.

"He is very pretty," said the Archdaemon, looking completely unimpressed, "but in 7th Circle, everybody is expected to put their backs into earning their keep, and this one is nothing but a spoiled prince. He's soft and undisciplined. He'll not make the cut. Besides, we already have quite enough fire-elementals in the Circle. He's useless to me."

Genesis's eyes blazed at the insult, but was both too weak and too wise now to attempt to retaliate. The ogre shoved him back in his cage and the demon party moved on.

"Then how about this centaur here?" Gooey-Duck gestured to N'geal, "Centaurs are one of the most hard-working and disciplined of the lower beings of the Axis, able to endure the hardest manual labour in the harshest conditions. This one's even been a soldier in 4th Circle's army. He is already well-trained in court etiquette, he speaks all the common tongues of the Axis and so can communicate fluently with other lower beings despite the shortcomings of his race. Be it working on his knees in the deepest mines or serving at banquet tables in the grandeur of an Archdaemon's dining halls, he comes well-equipped to be put to work right away in any area my lord most see fit."

"A black centaur..." the Archdaemon cocked her head at N'geal, her tail tapping slowly behind her. The centaur stood steady against her scrutiny.

"Tell me, centaur, what fault has the Archdaemon of 4th Circle found in you that he expelled you from his army and sent you here?" asked the Archdaemon.

"There were some tasks he commanded of me that I could not complete." N'geal answered evenly.

"I thought centaurs were supposed to be capable, and loyal and disciplined?" the Archdaemon arched an eyebrow.

N'geal's shoulders stiffened slightly, but his reply remained steady, "Indeed, but we also live and die by our honour. What my liege asked of me, I could not do without forsaking my honour."

The Archdaemon considered this for a moment, then asked, "What was your rank in the 4th's army?"

N'geal hesitated, but then answered truthfully, "I was Commander of the First Division."

The Archdaemon nodded in satisfaction, "Just as I thought."

"My lord...?" Gooey-Duck asked uncertainly.

"Centaurs have a reputation of being forthright and uptight. Black or not, this one's no different. He's too much of a straight arrow. 7th Circle has way too many...mischievous characters..." the Archdaemon, along with Tseng, glanced at Reno, who widened his eyes and tried to look innocent and offended, "...they will eat him alive."

"Hmm...then, may I suggest-"

"Those children..." the Archdaemon's attention suddenly focused on Husky and Nana, her dark red irises turning gold from the center, revealing slitted cat-like pupils. Nana shrank away in fear, her small body trembled violently. Husky huddled closer to her, partially shielding her from the Archdaemon's scrutiny with his body.

Gooey-Duck turned his merchant's smile on full force, "Ah...those children...they were found in the Wastelands, arrived from a spontaneous vortex. They are very rare indeed—in fact, we have not seen anything of the like. To have such rare creatures in one's possession will surely bring the envy of even the highest lords of Hell."

"Can they transform?" asked the Archdaemon, her red-and-gold eyes not once leaving the children to look at the slave merchant.

"Ah...yes..."

"I'd like to see it."

"...Of course..."

The children's collars glowed red and both of them gasped at the pain. The tattoos on Husky's neck seemed to come alive: they grew and extended down his body, morphing into gills and fins, and a bluish-silver fish tail soon replaced the boy's legs. Sephiroth imagined that Nana's tattoos did the same as bat wings extended from her back. Her ears also grew longer, but unlike the demons', hers remained rounded at the tips.

"I'd like a closer look at them." the Archdaemon commanded without taking her eyes off the children.

Gooey-Duck jerked his head at his ogre lackey. The hideous hulking monster lurched into the children's cage and undid the chain on their collars from the thick chain on the floor. As it did so it caught the scent of their fear and pain. It sneered in instinctive bloodlust as it fixed its jaundiced eyes upon them and extended its huge clawed hands towards the vulnerable morsels of flesh.

Nana sucked in a breath and screamed.

"Worm-fire! Not like that you oaf!" Gooey-Duck barely had time to yell before the ogre collapsed face-first to the floor.

Everyone in Sephiroth's cage tensed when the ogre reached for the children. They could all see that Nana was at her breaking point and feared that the girl would do something reckless. However, they didn't expect her scream to be in an inhumanly high pitch that rang painfully in their super-human ears, nor did they expect a wave of nausea to hit them at the sound. The ogre took the girl's attack full-force and fell out-cold right on the spot. Gooey-Duck hastily put up a shield but was barely fast enough. The slave trader staggered from dizziness as he rushed into the children's cage.

Husky had evidently had training in close-quarter combat. He lifted and pivoted himself on his arms and unerringly smacked Gooey-Duck hard in the nose with his fish-like tail. The slave trader's eyes watered as he fell backwards. Nana took the opportunity to hook her arms under Husky's and launched them both into the air on her bat-like wings.

All in Sephiroth's cage watched the coming disaster in horror. They fiercely hoped that the children would be able to get away but knew they would not: there were just too many demons about and Nana's speed was not going to get them out of range for spells and such fast enough. What's more, someone in the Archdaemon's party — it wasn't clear exactly which of the three — had promptly put up a large magical barrier that protected the entire party. As a result, the three most dangerous demons in the vicinity were completely untouched by Nana's attack.

Just as Nana had cleared the cage, a hand shot out and casually plucked the girl from the air by her ankle. It was the Archdaemon. In one smooth motion, she flung Nana into the cage bars of the imps. The impact knocked Husky from Nana's grasp; he landed hard and tumbled to several paces away on the floor. The imps went into a wild frenzy; they screeched loudly and clawed at Nana's delicate pale skin and sensitive wings. The poor girl had had the wind knocked out of her, and had to fight for her breath as she frantically scrambled out of their reach. Husky struggled to get up and get over to Nana, but his fish-tail could only flop uselessly on the ground and his collar prevented him from changing back to his more land-suited form. A clawed hand suddenly closed around the arm of Nana's wing from behind and jerked upwards. Nana yelped in pain and surprise.

"I suggest both of you think _very_ hard before making your next move." said the Archdaemon coldly as she tightened her taloned fingers around Nana's wing. Reno adjusted his position slightly and allowed bolts of red-orange energy to dance between his own clawed fingers. His ever-present smirk was still in place, but his pale eyes flashed in silent yet unmistakable threat. Nana whimpered but wisely froze, as did Husky.

Gooey-Duck staggered up to the Archdaemon, obviously still feeling the effects of the children's deeds, and the Archdaemon coolly tossed Nana to him.

"You may put them back. I know their kind. They're called '+Anima'. They're humans who have been gifted with select abilities and traits from another animal. They may make cute little trophies on some demon lord's lap, but other than a few special abilities, they are every bit as weak and fragile as ordinary humans."

Gooey-Duck bowed and scraped and apologized profusely even as he kicked the ogre awake and barked at it to get the children chained and back into their cage.

"My utmost apologies, honoured lord, we were not there during these two's capture..."

"Of course not, I wouldn't expect the likes of you and your lackeys to have the competence to catch a cold," scoffed the Archdaemon, "so who was it, slave trader. Was it the Loveless? The Nobodies? As I recall, there is only one sector of the multiverse that has +Anima, and it is quite stable..."

Gooey-Duck straightened himself defensively, "If my lord is implying that I've been dishonest in the practice of my business, I have documents, forms, proof that-"

"Save your forged papers for the Watchers," the Archdaemon interrupted, "I just want to know that I can shop for slaves in the comfort of the knowledge that I'll not be suddenly finding Watchers on _my_ ass."

"Of course not my lord," assured Gooey-Duck, "this ship has been thoroughly inspected by the Watchers before we docked. We are most certainly spotless in every respect."

"Good." said the Archdaemon, then her demeanor rapidly brightened as she shifted her attention to Sephiroth's cage, "What pretty mixed-bloods you have here, and quite a large selection too!"

Five pairs of eyes watched from their cage as the slave trader twitched behind the Archdaemon.

"May I suggest this one here..." Gooey-Duck quickly got ahead of the Archdaemon and dragged out Nero.

"He's _very_ pretty..." the Archdaemon's eyes widened and she stared at Nero with unabashed interest. Reno made a sound of agreement. Tseng shot him a hard look, but studied Nero thoughtfully after.

Gooey-Duck grinned in satisfaction as he secured Nero's collar to the pole.

"Humans are such...voracious breeders...fertile with just about anything," the Archdaemon slowly spoke as she circled the hybrid, her tail making lazy arcs behind her, "but, one can't always argue with the results..." She leaned into Nero's neck and inhaled. The hybrid stiffened.

"He smells absolutely delicious! Is he..." the Archdaemon narrowed her eyes, "...a Hell-born?"

"Yes, and he's a brand new slave too." Gooey-Duck said proudly.

The Archdaemon's eyes widened, "A Hell-born hybrid who survived to this age without getting captured and enslaved?"

"Oh yes, and see this..." Gooey-Duck spoke a word, and the power around the metal shackle that bound Nero's demonic claw shifted. Everyone watched in fascination as Nero's arm began to glow bright blue.

"Oooo~~ Shiny~~~" cooed the Archdaemon as she reached out to touch the claw. Nero jerked his claw away at her touch and then snapped it forward instinctively in an attack. The Archdaemon deftly caught the claw mid-strike in one hand and then used it to pull the hybrid close. A white glow emitted from her hand and cracked against Nero's blue. Nero growled into the Archdaemon's face, now barely an inch away.

"And feisty..." the Archdaemon grinned widely in appreciation.

"He'll make a very good addition to my lord's bed..." Gooey-Duck suggested lewdly. Nero's blue eyes blazed as he glared at the slave merchant.

"Hmm...I _do_ like him...but..." the Archdaemon drew back and frowned as she considered, "I'm not sure of the economic viability of pleasure slaves..."

"He's also very hardy. Likely the get of a daeva of the Mid Circles." said Gooey-Duck.

"No..." said the Archdaemon absent-mindedly as she sniffed once more at Nero, "he smells way too good to be that... No...he's the progeny of something much more powerful. In fact, I'd wager I can make a pretty good guess to his bloodline." the Archdaemon grinned wickedly at the hybrid. Nero's eyes widened. Even Gooey-Duck looked surprised at that statement.

Tseng sighed quietly behind his oblivious sovereign as he glanced at Gooey-Duck's gleaming, greedy eyes. The slave merchant was now sure to demand a high price for all that the Archdaemon had said about the hybrid.

"So...Boss, can we keep him?" Reno asked, the fiery redhead was clearly running out of patience.

The Archdaemon frowned as she looked to Reno, "He does smell very delicious...too delicious... Even if I don't use him as a pleasure slave, that will not stop a lot of the horny bastards in the Circle from flying at him like flies to carrion — you know those I'm talking about."

Tseng rolled his eyes. Reno's shoulders dropped.

"Aww Boss... Come on!"

"So... my lord...?" asked Gooey-Duck.

The Archdaemon sucked in a breath through her teeth and ran a hand through her hair. Her tail swept back and forth agitatedly, "Tempting... _very_ tempting..." She paused for a long time staring at Nero with her brows furrowed. "But no." her tail-tip dipped in affirmation, "Way too many potential problems."

Reno moaned in despair. Tseng cleared his throat loudly and glared at the redhead. None of the demons took note of Gooey-Duck's disappointed look however.

As the ogre shoved Nero back into the cage, the Archdaemon noticed Fenris and frowned in puzzlement, "That one there, he looks like a regular wolf-youkai, why do you have him here with hybrids?"

"We _had_ put that one in with the other youkai when we first acquired him, but we soon found that he's a better fit here. You see, my lord, his previous master was one who called himself 'The Warlock of the West'." explained Gooey-Duck.

"That idiot who got himself killed in the marshlands?" said the Archdaemon.

"...Yes. As my lord may know, that one was constantly chasing after new knowledge and new magic. He bought quite a number of slaves, and did experiments on them."

Four pairs of eyes turned to Fenris. The wolf-youkai's posture subtly tensed, but he carefully kept his face impassive.

Those standing outside their cage took no notice as Gooey-Duck continued, "Shortly before his death, he had been working on creating a youkai-demon hybrid. This one is one of the results. He retains all his youkai characteristics, but he also has some demon ones. For one, he has our ability to communicate with all creatures who use spoken language."

Sephiroth's eyes rose to the demons at this tidbit of information. He had studied Wutaian as part of his training in childhood, and Hojo had attributed his fast mastery of the language as another success of the his own self-proclaimed 'genius'. But now Sephiroth wondered, if he hadn't studied the language, would he still have not noticed any difficulty understanding the locals during his first mission in Wutai.

The Archdaemon crouched down to peer closer at Fenris through the cage bars.

"Interesting, very interesting...a youkai with demon abilities... I've always found it a pity that with all the better, stronger beings, humans are the only creatures capable of breeding mixed-blood children with demons. And he's quite handsome too. Yes...he'll be very good indeed." the Archdaemon bared her long sharp canines in a wide grin and nodded to herself. Fenris's eyes widened. Tseng suddenly cleared his throat, and the Archdaemon shot him an annoyed look.

"But," she sighed in exasperation as she shot another annoyed glare at the greenish mark on Fenris's shoulder, " _apparently..._ second-hand slaves are beneath Archdaemons as show-pieces to pompous bastards."

Fenris looked visibly relieved as Tseng glared warningly at his sovereign as discreetly as he could.

"If my lord prefer youkai, we also have a dog-hanyou there. He's brand new." suggested Gooey-Duck hurriedly, "Not only that, he's a _dai_ -hanyou! Very rare, and almost as hardy as hybrids."

"True, but," the Archdaemon stood up and shook her head, "hanyou are a tad...unstable. They have that...monthly...cycle...thing..."

Nero raised an eyebrow at Inuyasha. The dog-hanyou hotly glared back.

"...That kind of weakness will very likely be fatal in the 7th." finished the Archdaemon. "Say, what about that one over there, the one who had been staring quite boldly at us?" she pointed at Sephiroth.

"Ah...that one..." said Gooey-Duck slowly as a look of uncertainty passed over his wrinkled features.

"Skip the intro and take him out." commanded the Archdaemon impatiently.

"...Yes, my lord."

As the ogre led Sephiroth out of the cage by the collar, the ex-general stood up to his full height and towered over the petite Archdaemon. His long silver hair shimmered about his shoulders and against his back, straight and untangled as always. His eyes shone coldly down at the Archdaemon, not a glimmer of fear in their mako-green depths. Reno gave a whistle of appreciation. Even Tseng looked impressed.

"He's _magnificent_!" breathed Tah'rh, not at all caring about her slack jaw.

 


	11. Twenty Jin

The Archdaemon circled slowly around Sephiroth as she did Nero, sniffing at the ex-general from time to time. Sephiroth held himself still against the unpleasant feelings rising from his gut. The situation of being put on display and examined like a lab specimen was much too familiar.

"He looks like a hybrid...but he smells...different...from that one there." the Archdaemon's tail made a swipe towards Nero.

"My lord is most perceptive and wise," Gooey-Duck's smile looked a tad exaggerated, "he's a hybrid, yes, but this one is a Mortal-born."

The Archdaemon made a non-committal sound as she reached out and ran her hand along Sephiroth's well-muscled arm. Sephiroth struggled to stay still as goosebumps rose in her wake. He did not like to be touched. Since his earliest memories, touch had always meant either cold bony fingers clamped around his arm, tugging him to places he didn't want to go, or poking, prodding, arranging him around the various sterile metals of medical equipment like a rag doll, or harsh reprimand, or the violence of battle. And the current situation and its unpleasant familiarity certainly did _not_ help. Tah'rh took no notice of his discomfort however, and continued until she reached his hand. She grabbed it and turned it upwards for inspection, running her thumb across the callouses.

"A fighter...a swordsman." she said, mostly to herself.

"We have been fortunate to see him in battle before we made his capture. He's a most impressive fighter." said Gooey-Duck, still sporting that exaggerated smile.

"Well if he got himself captured by the likes of you and that ogre there then he can't be _that_ impressive." the Archdaemon scoffed, not bothering to spare the slave trader a glance. Sephiroth didn't bother to take offense. He'd been in situations where ShinRa scientists hovered about their precious specimens, flaunting them at each other. His examiner's gibe was not directed at him.

Gooey-Duck stiffened a bit, but that smile managed to stay in place, "We assure you that he is indeed a most impressive warrior. Of course humble servants like us had not the skill to bring him down..."

"Too' down na pack o' Wastelan' Hounds, wit da' un he did." the ogre suddenly spoke, gesturing to Vincent. Gooey-Duck turned to it incredulously, looking like he wanted to throttle the stupid thing.

The three demons' attentions turned to Vincent.

"Is that right?" said the Archdaemon, amused, "take that one out too then, I want a look at the both of them."

Gooey-Duck could only school his features back into their too-pleasant place as he kicked the ogre to task.

When the ogre took his chain, Vincent rose to his feet as if he were a spectre, unbeholden to earthly things such as weight or gravity. His silent grace contrasted sharply with the ogre's lurching clumsiness as he was led from the cage.

"An assassin..." the Archdaemon murmured. Tseng and Reno also looked on thoughtfully.

Once his chain, too, was secured to the pole, the ex-Turk straightened his also-impressive height beside Sephiroth, his untamed ebony hair stark against his pale skin, his crimson eyes cold and unafraid. All three demons' eyes widened, and a hush fell over the onlookers. It was the Archdaemon who finally voiced the sentiment: "He's absolutely _beautiful_!"

"Is he also a Mortal-born hybrid?" asked Tseng as the Archdaemon circled Vincent, her tail swinging in a pleased dance.

"Yes, my lords. Nothing gets past your exalted eyes." Gooey-Duck's fake smile took on a smidgen of genuineness as greed once again flashed in his dark eyes.

"Say uh...Boss, I heard that humans are social creatures, and so are their get. So they need to be bought in pairs...or even better, in threes, just in case, you know, one of them dies and the other gets lonely."

The Archdaemon's brow rose as she glanced towards Reno, "Isn't that for elephants?"

Reno shrugged, "Works for humans and hybrids too."

"We're _not_ getting the Hell-born, Reno." sighed the Archdaemon in exasperation, "Just one of them will cost between 50 Yem to 150 Yem per month on food alone, times however long they manage to live, plus the cost of energy and maintenance for their dwelling, and the projected cost of..." The Archdaemon continued to calculate away to herself as she turned away from the dejected redhead and continued her inspection of the 'hybrids'. Reno huffed in a manner that said this particular mood of his sovereign's was one that he'd seen many times before, and he knew that there was no use trying to argue with her during it. He looked to Tseng, who shrugged back at him with an equally knowing smirk.

"They have...a very strong smell of humans about them..." the Archdaemon slowly drew back and narrowed her eyes at the two men.

"That's perhaps from their Mortal-born heritage." Gooey-Duck hurriedly explained.

"Still..." the Archdaemon furrowed her brows as she stared at the 'hybrids' contemplatively.

"They also arrived from a spontaneous vortex, probably never spent any time in Hell their whole lives...it's not unusual for hybrids to acquire a few extra human traits if they spend too much time in the Mortal worlds."

The Archdaemon cast a long sideways glance at the slave trader, then looked back at the two men, lifting her inhuman eyes straight to their faintly glowing ones, "How old are you? And by that I mean how many years have passed since the day you were born?"

Gooey-Duck's smile twitched, his beady eyes widened. Nero's blue eyes flashed as they snapped up to the demons. Behind the slave merchant and the demon party, N'geal's brows furrowed as his dark eyes trained onto the Archdaemon's back.

Sephiroth frowned, completely caught by surprise at the question. He himself had not considered that question in a _very_ long time. If ShinRa's files were to be trusted, and he wasn't sure if they were, then he'd have been 25 by the time he was sent on that mission to Nibelheim...and he was pretty sure that 5 years passed before the next time he..."died"... Since then...3 years? 2? Would the passage of time even apply to him during the times when he was..."dead"?

"60."

Sephiroth's eyes pivoted in surprise towards the ex-Turk beside him.

The Archdaemon nodded. "And you?" she asked Sephiroth.

"Thirty...three."

"And..." a slow smile appeared ominously on the Archdaemon's face, "That is the truth you're telling? I do _so_ despise liars and I _do_ have a reputation for...disposing of persons who are untruthful to me."

From the corner of his eyes, Sephiroth saw Gooey-Duck blanch. Whispers rose from among the onlookers. The former general's sensitive ears faintly caught the words "previous Archdaemon", "murder", "uncontrollable", "tantrum", and "undying brat". Whether she heard them or not, the Archdaemon paid them no mind.

"I see no reason to lie about my age." said Vincent calmly, his red eyes steady.

"It's accurate to the best of my knowledge." said Sephiroth coolly, matching Vincent's steadiness.

"What about those Alraune over there," the Archdaemon gestured to the plant-creatures in the cage beside them, "what is the shape of the patterns on their petals?"

Sephiroth looked towards the plant-creatures and the flower petal-like growths on their bodies and frowned in puzzlement, not seeing where the Archdaemon was trying to go with this.

"Solid colours, different on each individual, with darker coloured spots near the origin, also differing in colour between individuals." the former general answered truthfully.

Vincent nodded his agreement.

"And that is also the truth you're telling?" red-and-gold eyes bore into the two men.

"What reason would I have to lie about such things?" Sephiroth questioned back boldly, a bit irritated and momentarily lapsing in his self-control due to confusion and the discomforting familiarity of being questioned and examined and held in display.

"Indeed," nodded the Archdaemon, seeming to not take any offense from Sephiroth's show of disrespect and instead looking quite smug, "there would be no reason for you two to lie. Someone else however..." She turned menacingly to the now wide-eyed and unsmiling Gooey-Duck.

"Did you know, that hybrids can sometimes be somewhat...difficult to define and identify?" asked the Archdaemon, seemingly speaking to the two men but keeping her eyes on the slave trader, "Human genes do sometimes interfere with demon ones in rather unexpected ways. But there are certain things that are constant enough that can be used to test for true hybrids as opposed to impostors. The time it takes for them to reach maturity for example...as related to the amount of time they spent in Hell during their maturing years. And so, an age test is usually the staple of a series of tests that is administered to expose the true nature of a supposed hybrid. As is the sight test. But _you two_ would know nothing about that, would you? Since you are nothing but a couple of modified **HUMANS**!" The Archdaemon advanced upon the ashen-faced slave trader, her canines bared, her eyes now almost pure gold, prominently displaying her slitted pupils. Reno and Tseng smoothly took a step so that their positions now blocked off any escape routes the slave trader might have tried.

"My lord, please! You must understand...I bear no ill intent, this is simply..."

"Simply what? An oversight? The testing methods for hybrids were developed _by_ and _for_ slave traders. Are you telling me that you, one of the best slave trader of all, would fail to administer even the most basic of the tests?" Energy began to buzz and crackle in the air about the Archdaemon. All the other demons in the stall tensed and held still.

"My lord!" Gooey-Duck dropped to his knees, "I am ever the humble servant to my most honoured lords! _Never_ would I dream of deceiving my most mighty masters! How would I dare? I am but a poor merchant, weak and foolish, only managing to scrape together a hard living through the work of these unworthy hands, only hoping, praying that I would never fail my masters through my abundant inadequacies..."

Sephiroth stared incredulously: the despicable slave trader was actually starting to weep, making himself the very picture of pitifulness.

"ENOUGH!" the Archdaemon looked as if she was ready to burst with rage at the slave trader's display, "if you're going to beg for your life, you better get to the point before I ram it up your lying ass!"

"My lord, I meant no deceit! As this dull-witted assistant of mine had so oafishly blurted, these two took down an entire pack of Wasteland Hounds before our very eyes with nothing but the most primitive weapons! And that one," the slave trader pointed to Vincent, "even transformed into a Galian Beast! We thought surely that was proof enough that they can be nothing less than true hybrids!"

The Archdaemon's eyes widened. She turned to Vincent, suddenly loosing all interest in the blubbering slave trader.

"Show me." she commanded.

Vincent's collar promptly glowed red. The gunman dropped to one knee and gritted his teeth against the pain. Red energy swirled around him and swallowed him. When it dissipated, kneeling in place of the pale ex-Turk was a horned monster with purple-black fur and a blood red mane. The monster snarled and roared its pain and fury. The Archdaemon bent down so that her eyes were level with the monster's. The monster immediately quieted, but it remained tense and a low growl rumbled in its throat. Slowly, the Archdaemon reached out a hand and held it in front of the wary monster, keeping eye contact all the while. Tentatively, the monster sniffed the offered hand, and gradually the low growl subsided. The Archdaemon pushed her hand under the monster's chin and cupped the long muzzle.

"Humans are indeed vile creatures," the Archdaemon murmured, still looking into the monster's golden eyes, "always tampering in things that they have no right, no idea of the consequences..."

"My lord?" Tseng inquired quietly.

The Archdaemon drew back from the monster. "You may turn off the hex now," she informed the slave trader, "he's ready to change back."

Gooey-Duck blinked and hesitated, but obeyed. Red energy once again swirled up, and then it was once again a pale ebony-haired man that crouched beside Sephiroth. Vincent was breathing hard, but his crimson eyes were clear, and he didn't seem to be harmed.

"Can the other one transform too?" the Archdaemon asked without looking at the slave trader.

Gooey-Duck quickly set the spell to work.

Sephiroth watched as his collar began to glow with no small amount of apprehension. Still, he wasn't prepared for the revolting sensation of violation when unseen claws dug themselves into that most private part of him hidden deep within. Those claws twisted into his being, pushing and pulling until his wings, that part of him that he'd always managed to keep to himself, even from the prying tools of ShinRa scientists, was forced against his will from his back. The former general shook with the effort to stop himself from lashing out in outrage.

"One wing? Is he supposed to fly with that?" incredulous whispers and condescending chuckles rose from a few of the onlookers.

The Archdaemon however, made no comment as she stared thoughtfully at the silver general, her eyes still partly gold, though her pupils had relaxed to ovals. She reached out a hand again and this time, it took on that white glow that had cracked against Nero's claw. Her talons looked substantially longer than moments before, and Sephiroth was certain that it was not just a visual illusion created by the glow. The former general instinctively moved away warily from the hand.

"What?" the Archdaemon arched an eyebrow at him in mocking amusement, "afraid I'll hurt you?"

Sephiroth glared at her in fury.

"Relax, I just want to get a better look at your incorporeal wing." said the Archdaemon, her amusement not at all abated by the glare.

Sephiroth blinked in confusion, then froze when the Archdaemon's hand touched _it_. Mako eyes widened in astonishment. How is this even possible? Nobody—save maybe Angeal and Genesis—knew, or could possibly have known about his _other_ wing. It was invisible, insubstantial, not even he himself had ever managed to be able to touch that wing even though he had always known that it was there, in the same way that people know exactly where their hands and feet are without needing to look. The glow from the Archdaemon's hand flowed forth like steam from heated springs. Sephiroth watched in amazement as it brushed up against his secret wing and revealed faint, translucent outlines of delicate feathers.

"Amazing..." whispered Tah'rh, "You might even be able to fly the Currents."

Sephiroth frowned at her in question, but the Archdaemon had already withdrawn her hand and turned her attention back to Gooey-Duck.

"40 Jin."

Gooey-Duck's beady eyes bulged, "F-for... which one, my lord?"

"For two." the Archdaemon said cooly.

Gooey-Duck's jaw went slack. "T-twenty Jin...each? B-but even as non-hybrids, they're worth..."

"Worth what? Considering that you and your rotten tongue tried to deceive me into buying a couple of worm-begotten _humans_ as hybrids, I'd say 20 Jin is a very good price indeed—a much higher price than what your sorry life is worth...especially if it's really as _miserable_ as you say it is." the Archdaemon narrowed her eyes and adjusted her stance to one of subtle threat, as if daring Gooey-Duck to refuse her offer. Reno and Tseng stood vigilant behind the slave trader.

Gooey-Duck's beady eyes wavered uncertainly for a few moments as he studied the maverick Archdaemon before him, and finally, he settled on swallowing his misgivings. "Of course, I am most grateful for the graciousness that my lord has shown such an unworthy and foolish servant." Gooey-Duck carefully schooled his features in place and slipped back into humble merchant mode, "if my lords will please come with me..." the slave trader bowed and gestured as he led the three demons through the procedures and paperwork that made the purchase final.

 

* * *

 

"...You're not going to mark them, my lord?" Gooey-Duck asked carefully.

"They both have very beautiful bodies. If I'm going to put a permanent mark on them, then I must think carefully on the design..." the Archdaemon answered absentmindedly as she deftly punctured skin and cartilage on Sephiroth's left ear and fastened a broad silver earring ornately decorated with emerald patterns.

Sephiroth gritted his teeth in the kneeling position that he was forced into, trying to focus against the feel of the ogres' rough hands on his skin, holding him down. It wasn't because of the pain of his pierced ear. That was minor and his enhanced healing quickly took care of it. It was that he was being touched much more than he cared for. He noticed though, that Vincent too did not like to be touched. He had become somewhat better at reading the ex-Turk's subtle changes of expression over the past days, and it was plain to his practiced observation that Vincent had been near ready to spring out of his own skin when the ogres grabbed his shoulders and arms to hold him still while the slave trader's bony hands worked over his neck, wrists and feet to remove the shackles and the slave collar.

"...These will work well enough until I come up with something satisfactory," the Archdaemon finished as she fastened an identically patterned ruby and gold earring onto Vincent's ear, "no one in the Axis will be able to look on these and not know who they belong to."

Sephiroth wondered sardonically if her 'these' and 'they' meant him and Vincent or the earrings—or if there's a difference at all. He hadn't failed to notice that the patterns on their earrings resembled the ones on the larger, more decorated earring on the Archdaemon's own ear. Her property.

At least the earrings weren't ugly...and at least in appearance didn't resemble the tags on the ears of Hojo's lab animals...too much. Glancing at the man kneeling beside him, the former general supposed that the simple and elegant design does look good on the ex-Turk's pale ear.

Sephiroth had watched the purchasing procedures of the slaves who had been bought earlier. It turned out that the slave-marks, such as the one on Fenris's shoulder, were no mere tattoos of coloured ink. They were seared into the flesh with the raw magic power of their demon masters. Perhaps that was why the demons felt no need to mark their slaves in places less easily hidden by clothing or hair. In fact, it seemed that slave marks could be placed just about anywhere on a slave's body that their masters see fit. Sephiroth had long inferred that demon eyes can somehow see more of the world than human ones. And the moment the too-warm earring touched his skin, thoughts of how snakes could lock onto their targets with deadly accuracy in the blackest of nights through their ability to see in infrared light, flashed through his mind.

Interestingly enough, the slave merchant was leading the Archdaemon through the purchase procedures with meticulous care, not at all trying to gain some petty revenge on her by "overlooking" any steps or such. Sephiroth knew that it wasn't because of any love the slave merchant had for this overbearing customer. More likely it was because of the watchful Tseng and Reno at his back. That and neatly done paperwork also seemed to be part of a slave merchant's business reputation.

"...My lord...what about your slave collars..." Gooey-Duck asked uncertainly when the Archdaemon drew back from the unshackled slaves and looked as if she was ready to leave.

"I do not need such heavy-handed methods to control my slaves." the Archdaemon snorted dismissively.

"But...how will my lord make the slaves go with you to your Circle?"

The Archdaemon raised an eyebrow at the slave trader, "I don't see why they won't just follow me there."

Gooey-Duck and the rest of the onlookers had to work hard to not look like they thought the Archdaemon was insane.

"Unless...they have become fond of this place and wish to stay longer in _your_ tender care and good company." the Archdaemon gave the slave trader a sarcastic smirk.

Sephiroth heard a cough from the cage he had shared with Fenris and the others. He wasn't sure from which one of the three remaining young men it originated.

What fate awaited them, Sephiroth wondered. For the children, who had clearly angered the sadistic slave merchant, their immediate future was certain to be grim. And what of the headstrong and spirited Inuyasha and Nero, and the fiery Genesis. And Fenris and N'geal, who had aided him with their own special brands of wisdom throughout his time here, much like Zack and Angeal had in by-gone days in SOLDIER.

" _ **He's dead. He's dead because of you, boy. Because of your pathetic weakness."**_

Hojo's words echoed, unbidden, through his memory.

No. This is no time to allow himself to get attached, to get sentimental. Those things made one weak, and he didn't need them. He had long known since the very beginning that they were going to part ways one way or another, had known that nothing but grim reality awaited him and his shackled companions. He should have known better long ago too, in SOLDIER. For now, his own survival was uncertain, and he could not afford such weakness to slip through.

"I like to think that _my_ tender care is somewhat better, if not the company." the Archdaemon turned her smirk to Vincent and Sephiroth and continued, "Your primary purpose is to look good and to make me look good in front of other Archdaemons, so you can be assured that unless you make yourselves liabilities or dead-weight drains on the economy, I'll not mistreat you—least it makes me look like I've dragged something out of the sewers to stand in for slaves. Plus," her dark red eyes glistened mischievously, "although Junon is a major trading port in Hell, the parts of the Currents that flow through it only lead to other parts of Hell and select regions of the Wastelands. However...7th Circle is well-supplied by various tributary Streams of the Aether Currents, as well as seasonal vortices, that can access any part of the Wastelands. Its libraries contain maps and charts detailing the courses and flows of the Currents and the routes between various parts of the Axis and even parts of the Mortal worlds. The Circle also has many aircrafts and ships capable of traversing the Currents. For any slave wishing to escape back to their own world, I'd think it's a very good place to start, no?"

Now not even Gooey-Duck can keep from looking like he thought the Archdaemon was insane.

Tseng and Reno exchanged a look between them—one of exasperation for Tseng, and one of amusement for Reno.

Sephiroth glared at the grinning Archdaemon. The manipulative bastard!

Tseng politely cleared his throat, "My lord, even so, it would be better if we give them some kind of collar and cuffs to affirm their status and their ownership. Their appearance and their smell are sure to attract the attentions of less than reputable individuals. It's better to be safe."

The Archdaemon thought about it for a moment, then nodded in agreement. She gathered a globe of daylight and condensed it until it hurt Sephiroth's fascinated eyes, then she divided it into five portions and wrapped them around Vincent's neck, wrists, and ankles. With a crack of enchantment, the light solidified into five ornate golden bands of varying shapes and sizes, all of them decorated with patterns that matched the earring. She then did the same for Sephiroth, only his bands were silver. All the other demons except for Reno and Tseng tensed uneasily at the display of light magic.

"...My lord, you're not going to put any hexes on those...?" asked Gooey-Duck, pretty much given up by now on trying to keep up appearances.

"Not unless their behaviour say I should." the Archdaemon flashed her new slaves with a wide toothy grin that once again reminded Vincent of Yuffie...when she had her thieving paws on some mastered materia...

"...And...if my lord don't mind this old servant asking...do you require us to assist you with clothing for your slaves?"

"Why?" asked the Archdaemon with an raised eyebrow, "They look fine as they are."

"I agree." supplied Reno as he eyed the two men who were dressed in nothing but the earrings and the metallic bands.

"My lord," Tseng cut in, "I have made some preparations myself, I hope you don't mind." He reached into his cloak and pulled out long lengths of cloth. Sephiroth observed in mild amusement that he looked quite like one of those magicians pulling out large quantities of colourful scarfs. The dark-haired demon deftly wrapped the cloths around the two men so that the earrings and metal bands were exposed to all who cared to see, but that everything else was safely covered.

"Are we done here yet?" the Archdaemon huffed in impatience and glared at Gooey-Duck as if daring him to say anything more.

The slave trader didn't.

"Good. Then let's get out of this shit hole." She then tossed a cheeky grin over her shoulder at her new slaves and strode out of the stall as if she fully expected them to follow.

Sephiroth fumed at her assured stride and the smug arcs of her tail. Determined to beat her at whatever game she was playing, he rose up to his feet and took one last look over his shoulder at those who had been his unlikely companions all these past days. And, with a glance at the silent ex-Turk beside him, he followed the Archdaemon into the streets outside, with his back straight and his head unbowed.


	12. Fireworks

"There! We got the rare slaves, you happy? Twenty Jin...we could have bought a gnome for twenty _Yem_!"

"You're exaggerating my lord, the cheapest gnome was 50 Yem. And a gnome is not nearly befitting enough for an Archdaemon. They are simply not acceptable."

"The Archdaemon of 6th Circle has a gnome."

"Only because he already has 26 rare slaves, and he only wanted something expendable to test his new whips on."

"A new slave just for testing whips...a frivolous expenditure I'd say. You don't need a _gnome_ for _that_." the Archdaemon glared hotly at Tseng, obviously imagining him to be that gnome.

"And my lord, what will the other lords think if they see lash marks on your First Counsellor?" Tseng raised an unintimidated eyebrow at the Archdaemon.

"They'll think we've had hot kinky sex. Speaking of which, I think you owe me just that after that slave-buying shit you dragged me through."

Reno guffawed, "Hey hey, don't think to leave _me_ out of the fun!"

"Never crossed my mind." grinned the Archdaemon.

Tseng gave his sovereign a hard glare, "Is it reassuring to know that you two can even _think_ of these things when there's a full stack of reports to be reviewed before the end of today."

"You really know how to kill the mood, don't you?" the Archdaemon grumbled darkly while Reno groaned.

"And we have an additional stack of forms that need to be filled." said Tseng mercilessly.

"Whatever. Reno, get us out of here." the Archdaemon huffed and flopped herself into one of the seats of a waiting aircraft that resembled a helicopter.

Sephiroth silently followed the demons to the aircraft, extremely annoyed that they seemed very confident that their new slaves would not try to escape while they bickered, and even more annoyed that these demons have every right to their confidence. The busy streets of the bustling port were filled with demons. Many of them stared or sniffed at him and Vincent with greed and ill intent flashing in their eyes, but then they would catch sight of their earrings and their company and quickly retrieve their wayward stares. The contraptions and vehicles that sat here and there along the confusing jumble of winding streets that the demons navigated with easy sureness, were foreign to his eyes and many of them beyond his experiences to guess their function. The former general had to admit that he was currently most ill-equipped to execute an escape plan of any sort. The ex-Turk was sure to have come to this conclusion as well. Those calculating eyes of his were also taking in those streets and contraptions as he too followed obediently behind their new masters.

Sephiroth paused however, when he got to the aircraft. The two front seats were obviously for the pilots, which in this case looks to be Reno and Tseng. The Archdaemon had seated herself in one of the seats the immediate row behind, leaving just enough room for two more passengers in the same row on either side of her, and behind her were two more rows of seats. Sephiroth had no idea what he was supposed to do or where he was supposed to sit, and the three demons were busy minding other things and were not giving him any directions or hints. Prior to the Wutai War, Sephiroth was often sent on bodyguard duty for President Shinra when he met with Wutai businessmen and leaders. When they sat in vehicles, for ShinRa executives, the most important person sat in the passenger seat beside the driver, while the secretary sat in the back. Wutai was the opposite, the most important person was the one sitting in the backseat while the secretary was the one sitting in the passenger seat. Getting such seemingly minor details as seating arrangements wrong often had consequences that ranged from public embarrassment to breakdown of diplomatic relations. And in formal dinners between the top leaders of the main continent and Wutai, the seating plans for the attendees were carefully and meticulously planned for weeks in advance.

As Sephiroth hesitated, the Archdaemon looked over at him and Vincent impatiently, "Well what are you waiting for? Get in already!"

Gritting his teeth in annoyance and steeling himself for whatever was going to come, Sephiroth briskly shoved himself into the seat that seemed the safest bet—in the row immediately behind the Archdaemon. If she was going to strike at him or taunt him, then at least she'll need to expend a bit of time and energy to turn around. And whatever she does, he was _not_ going to cower in the seats farthest away from her. Vincent followed after him and sat in the same row, but kept himself as far away from the ex-general as possible. The Archdaemon turned and looked at them, and both men tensed.

"The seat-belts are over there" pointed the Archdaemon, "you'll want to strap yourselves in. Reno's flying is a bit...infamous."

"Hey!" protested said infamous pilot good-humouredly.

Sephiroth blinked. Beside him, Vincent quietly clicked his seat-belt into place. Sephiroth gingerly followed suit. Reno's hands flew over the various switches and controls with easy confidence, and the aircraft obediently hummed to life.

As they steadily rose into the pale pink sky, Sephiroth and Vincent were regaled with the unobstructed view of the demon city for the first time. It was a trading city through and through. Markets of various kinds selling a wide range of commodities, some familiar, some decidedly strange, bustled in every corner of the city as far as the eye could see. Vehicles of many different shapes and sizes hurried in and out of the markets like ants from their mound. The sea-port that they had come through, and now were heading towards, was packed with huge ships as well as land vehicles and aircrafts. As they got closer, Sephiroth noticed that some of the ships and aircrafts that were coming from and going out to the dark-coloured sea seem to have suddenly appeared from or disappeared into nowhere, with coloured lights dripping past their hulls like droplets of water before they made their unexplained entrance or exit. Reno flipped a few more switches, and they began to speed up. Sephiroth looked out the windows to see those same coloured lights beginning to appear on and trail after the rotor blades of their aircraft.

Suddenly, a beeping noise sounded and Tseng reached into his cloak and took out what looked like a PHS. The dark-haired demon's brows furrowed ominously as he listened to the speaker on the other side of the line.

"What is it?" asked Tah'rh as she moved closer to the front.

"A fight has broken out in Sunless Harbour and is quickly escalating," explained Tseng grimly, "it's the Setarip and Sajnin gangs. Cissnei and the others are doing what they can to stop the fighting and control the damage, but it appears to be very serious this time."

"Blood and fire!" cursed the Archdaemon, "Can I not look away for 5 minutes before somebody gets on somebody else's ass!"

"Your orders, Boss?" Reno looked back at her, his hands poised over the controls.

The Archdaemon bit her lip in thought, "Even flying the Currents may be too slow, we'll have to take a vortex."

Her eyes started to turn gold again and her slitted pupils expanded to ellipses as she scanned the horizon.

"There, we'll take that one." she pointed.

Reno nodded and began steering the aircraft into the direction indicated. The coloured lights on the rotor blades dissipated.

Sephiroth searched where the Archdaemon had pointed, but there seemed to be nothing but the sky and the sea there. He squinted his eyes, and suddenly a flicker in the air darted in and out of his vision. He blinked and looked again. There, it's clearer now: a mass of what looked like the churning air that rose from hot surfaces on summer days. And the more he looked, the clearer it becomes to him. In fact, it was becoming less and less transparent and was starting to turn a peculiar shade of...blue? Sephiroth blinked again and looked in other directions. Now that he'd seen one, more and more were appearing to his eyes. There were quite a few of them—of different sizes and shapes—floating in the air all over the place around the sea port. The one they were heading for was one of the largest, and was circular in shape. Reno slowed the aircraft to a hover before it. The Archdaemon opened the cabin door and leaned out. She took off the string of beads that she wore around her neck, ran her thumb over one of her canines to break the skin and then smeared the droplets of blood onto the beads. Vincent and Sephiroth recognized that a lot of the other demon lords that they'd seen in the slave market had carried similar beads. The Archdaemon then tossed the beads at the bluish, churning air, and spoke a word that Chaos recognized as something that means "open" for doorways. Immediately, the beads began to gather the bluish swirls about them, and then expanded and stretched them out to become what looked like a flat bluish mirror that floated in the middle of the sky.

Reno flew the aircraft straight into the "mirror", and Sephiroth's stomach rolled with an oddly familiar sensation. Liquid energy wrapped around the aircraft, and Sephiroth and Vincent suddenly found the aircraft being rushed through what felt like a tunnel of fast-moving water. There were coloured lights all around them, rushing about, swirling and bumping into each other and the aircraft, pulling and pushing the aircraft this way and that. A cheeky grin appeared on Reno's face as he glanced at his passengers mischievously and dramatically adjusted his grip on the aircraft's levers (Sephiroth assumed they were somewhat akin to the cyclic and collective controls of the helicopters of his world), and the aircraft took off in a wild dance, swerving and rolling along with the chaotic flow of the coloured lights. The Archdaemon gave a joyful whoop while Tseng simply sighed. It's a good thing that both himself and Vincent seemed to be immune to air-sickness, Sephiroth supposed. And interestingly enough, this didn't feel much different from the few times he had had to spend in human-Reno's chopper back when he was still ShinRa's Silver General.

When the lights finally unwrapped themselves from the aircraft, the scenery around them, the colour of the sky and the sea, the smell of the air, etc., were decidedly different from what they were just moments ago. And instead of heading away from the harbour of a bustling market city, they were now heading towards a heavily industrialized coast. The smoke from what looked like factories choked the sky, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

The ships here were even bigger than the ones Sephiroth and Vincent had seen in Junon. Many of them carried giant crates, and some of them were equipped with cranes. Right now, those ships were being shepherded further into the sea, away from the harbour by tugboats and helicopter-like aircrafts similar to the one Sephiroth and Vincent were currently flying in. More aircrafts hovered about further inland from the coast, and occasionally, flashes of fire and lightning appeared from between the buildings and cranes and piles of containers and unfamiliar-looking goods. This must be Sunless Harbour.

Behind them, the bluish "mirror", looking exactly as it did back in Junon with the same beads acting as its border, hung silently in the sky. With a word from the Archdaemon that Chaos recognized to be something that meant both "return" and "power-down", the beads disengaged from the bluish energy and flew back to their master. Just as the Archdaemon looped the beads back around her neck and turned to look upon the harbour, a fireball flew out from between the buildings of the harbour, and crashed into a crate hanging from one of the harbour cranes, evidently having been left there in a hurry when the fighting broke out. The crate jerked on the chain it hung from as it burst into flames. Whatever it contained obviously did not like the heat and vibrations, and almost immediately exploded into hundreds of pieces of shrapnel. One particularly large piece punctured into a huge canister. Clear liquid then gushed from the canister's wound and ran into a large pile of yellowish powder, which then burst into flames. The flames, carried on the clear liquid, quickly spread to other piles of various materials, which included a pile of innocent-looking crates, which then exploded in spectacular noise and smoke. Within seconds, much of the harbour was either burning, exploding, breaking, or all of the above.

For a moment, Tah'rh, Reno, and Tseng simply gaped silently at the destruction. The fighting in the harbour too, seemed to have quieted. Then slowly, almost apprehensively, Reno and Tseng turned to their sovereign. But the Archdaemon was lost in her own world.

"6 cranes at 50 to 300 Jin per crane plus 15 tuns of ruphur times 476 Jin per tun plus 230 shun of perosene times 142 Jin per shun plus..." face slack and eyes unfocused, she continued this litany as harbour cranes keeled over with loud metallic groans, and more and more things around the harbour fell victim to chains of explosions.

"Umm...Boss...?" Reno asked carefully.

The rioters down in the harbour didn't seem to share the Archdaemon's concerns however. A streak of lightning shot out from an unseen caster, and the fighting re-ignited. The Archdaemon snapped out of her stupor and growled deep and low in her chest. Her eyes were almost completely gold and her pupils were narrowed into thin slits. An enormous amount of energy began to swell and crack around her.

"Tell Cissnei and the others to get out of range. I'm going down there." she said from between her clenched canines before leaping out of the aircraft. White energy completely enveloping her petite frame as she shot towards the harbour in a speed that Sephiroth himself had never attempted. The ground trembled at her landing, and the white light expanded and burst to reveal a _huge_ white tiger-lion creature with dark-red markings that towered over the buildings. Helicopter-like aircrafts frantically scrambled away from the growling creature. Even Reno back-peddled a little.

"You might want to plug your ears." warned the red-head.

And sure enough, the white tiger-lion thing let out a ground-shaking roar soon after. Sephiroth clenched his teeth against the sound. Even at this distance, it reverberated right through him and sat every hair on end. A high-pitched, scream-like sound layered within the roar threatened to pull the air from his lungs and set his skull on fire. Beside him, Vincent sat rigid with his hands clenched into bloodless knuckles. His pupils were constricted into pin-pricks as the crimson irises flashed wildly with flecks of gold.

Reno and Tseng sat with their jaws tight and their brows tightly furrowed, and Reno's knuckles were white on the aircraft's controls. Nonetheless, their aircraft hovered steadily in the air. Some of the other "helicopters" around the harbour faltered, but quickly righted themselves as if every one of them had been well-versed in the Archdaemon's violent tactics.

But Tah'rh was not done yet. A large ring of red-white light flashed briefly before a huge pillar of blood red light rose into the sky and enveloped the entire harbour. Screams of agony filled the air along with the roar of fire and the occasional explosion, which the Archdaemon seemed to be sucking in to fuel the intensity of her spell.

It was not long before all went quiet in the harbour. The fires and explosions were gone, as were any signs of movement except for the huge white form of the Archdaemon and the spinning rotors of the aircrafts.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Internet memes come and go. I wonder if anyone still remembers the setarip...err..."pirates vs. ninjas" thing xD


	13. Financial Woes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** strong language

"Alright Nami, hit me." said the Archdaemon, her elbows propped on her desk and her hands pressed together and against her lips.

"Twenty-one thousand and five hundred Jin. And that's just to get the harbour to minimum working order. Not including the amount for the damaged and destroyed goods." replied the ginger-haired young woman with large, intelligent, dark-brown eyes. Sephiroth guessed that she must be some kind of finance minister.

Tah'rh remained very still for a very long time. Sephiroth glanced about in mild annoyance. Since nobody had had the time in all this commotion to see to him and Vincent, they were simply dragged along where ever the Archdaemon went. So now here they were, in the capital city of the 7th Circle, in the Archdaemon's palace and in the Archdaemon's office, standing around like idiots while the highest officials of the Circle discussed important state matters that he was pretty sure slaves weren't meant to hear. Presently nobody paid them any mind, but that doesn't mean things won't go badly when somebody finally does notice the new slaves in the Archdaemon's office. Sephiroth glanced to his side. As always, the ex-Turk seemed to be taking everything with an admirable calm acceptance. Sephiroth had to admit, he was not unhappy that Vincent was here with him.

"Fuck." the Archdaemon finally said. She took a deep breath before continuing, "Blood and fire... We've _just_ had to dip into the Circle's reserves to repair the Central Bridge. How are we going make that kind of money to get the harbour to working condition in time for the opening of the Summer Vortices... But if we don't get the exports out in time, we'll NEVER be able to haul our asses out of the red."

"We can take out a loan from the other Circles." suggested Tseng gently.

"No..." the Archdaemon slowly rubbed her forehead, "we've already been borrowing too much from them. You said yourself that taking out loans from other Circles too often will damage our reputation and give them too much leverage over us. 5th Circle is trustworthy enough, they're strictly about business, but we've already been relying on them too much. 3rd, 6th, 8th...those vultures will pick on us, or worse."

"We have...never taken out a loan from the 4th Circle." suggested Nami reluctantly.

"Absolutely not." the Archdaemon glared from behind her hand, "That old man's money is waaay too dirty—even by Hell's standards. I'm not touching that stuff."

They all fell silent after that, none of them able to think of a better solution.

The Archdaemon sighed, "Well what about the other statistics? How many injured, how many killed, how are the hospitals doing, etcetera."

"Those numbers are still coming in, but the hospitals are packed. Most of the injured seem to be those gang members who were involved in the riot..."

"And they have the _gall_ to be sitting in there, using up _my_ resources to care for the injuries they've acquired while destroying _my_ harbour?" the Archdaemon growled, " _They_ should be the ones paying for the damages! In fact, Nami, write this down: as of right now, anybody who gets themselves injured from destroying Circle property will be charged a Property Damage Tax of three times of whatever their hospital bills are!"

"But Tah'rh, the majority of those gang members are sailors and dock-workers, they don't have that kind of money!" argued Nami.

"Then put them on a fucking payment plan!" the Archdaemon seethed, "What were they fighting about anyways? Somebody showed up at a party in the same outfit as somebody else?"

"From what we currently understand," answered Tseng, "is that a young man from Setarip and a young woman from Sajnin took a liking to each other. They attempted to elope and failed, and the two gangs blamed each other for the affair."

"WHAT! They went into a riot for _that_? This is fucking 7th Circle of Hell! Not some worm-eaten Broadway musical! Can't they at least have the decency to destroy my harbour for something more...demonic? Like loosing the inter-Circle team-disket championships at the seventh game of the finals like they did fucking _last_ worm-begotten _YEAR_?!" the Archdaemon practically jumped out of her chair in explosive rage.

A vase near her desk cracked before bursting into flames. Tseng calmly waved a hand over it to quell the flames, then smoothly tossed it into a bin behind him.

The Archdaemon sighed and dropped back into her chair, rested her head on its back and stared into the ceiling.

"We'll figure something out, Archdaemon." said Tseng quietly, sounding very much like someone who didn't truly believe his own words, but was determined to make those words true.

"Call me that again and I'll bloody rip your face off." said Tah'rh in a dry monotone. One corner of Tseng's lips quirked up a little at that. Some sort of inside-joke, Sephiroth guessed.

Everyone in the room went silent after that, deep in their own thoughts. Just as Sephiroth began to wonder again at his and Vincent's awkward presence in this room of important state affairs, the Archdaemon suddenly rocked forward in her chair, jolting everyone out of their thoughts.

"Well, if you're here, why skulk around outside like that?" Tah'rh shouted joyfully at the door, "Come in already!" Then, as if responding to their sovereign's will, the doors to the office swung open on their own accord.

Both Sephiroth and Vincent tensed when a head of silver hair and a pair of dark blue eyes poked in from the doorway. Neither of them had sensed this person's presence... _at all_. That had never happened at this close a distance before, not even with the other demons.

Inside Vincent's mind, his demons gave a low, uneasy growl.

"I heard there's been some massive property damage going on...again... I thought it might be safer for me to stay out here for a while." smiled the silver-haired young man.

Tah'rh snorted while Nami snickered.

"Plus...Cissnei caught me on the way here, and asked me to help her bring _this_ here..." the young man took a step so that his entire body was now visible from the doorway, and between his arms was a tall stack of various papers and reports.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me! There had _better_ be some 100 Jin bills in there somewhere." groaned the Archdaemon.

The young man chuckled as he strode to the Archdaemon's desk and deposited the stack of papers. Then he and the Archdaemon clasped their hands and pulled each other into a warm hug, their tails raising in genuine pleasure.

"It's good to see you again, sis."

Sephiroth watched in curiosity. It was easy to see the family resemblance between the two. In fact, this young man could have been the Archdaemon's double, only in a different gender, different colouration, dressed in all black instead of all white, and a gentler demeanor. And like the Archdaemon, he was also bare-footed.

"Good to see you too, Fah'yn." smiled the Archdaemon, "How's work? All's going well I hope?"

"Oh you know, same old same old. I see that the same can be said for the 7th."

Tah'rh humphed good-humouredly and rolled her eyes. Fah'yn then greeted Tseng and Nami with equal warmness.

"Is Reno not here?" asked Fah'yn.

"He's still at Sunless Harbour, overseeing the clean-up." answered Tseng.

"Ah...that's too bad..." Fah'yn's tail drooped a little.

Nami hid a smirk behind the folders in her hand.

"And these two quiet fellows here, are they your new slaves, sis?" Fah'yn turned to Vincent and Sephiroth.

The two men tensed and braced themselves as everyone's eyes turned to them.

"Yep. So, what do you think?" Tah'rh answered her twin cheerfully, as if she had new slaves standing around in her office, listening in on state affairs every day.

"They're _beautiful_..." Fah'yn stared at the two men with wide eyes. He leaned closer—his blue eyes turning silver from the center—and sniffed. Sephiroth frowned in irritation, Fah'yn then blinked and drew back.

"I'm sorry, that was very rude of me. It's a bad habit from my job, you see," apologized the young man, "let me properly introduce myself. I'm Fah'yn, Warden of Hades and twin of your rather temperamental master here. And...may I know your names?"

Sephiroth studied the young man carefully. It seemed that his offer of goodwill was sincere enough. And as a slave, he wasn't sure if he really had a choice about whether or not to give his name.

"Sephiroth."

"Vincent. Vincent Valentine."

Fah'yn repeated their names to himself a few times as if to memorize their shaping, then smiled warmly, "It's very nice to meet you, Sephiroth and Vincent Valentine."

"Amazing, aren't they? Almost look and smell exactly like true hybrids," said the Archdaemon as she came up to them, "had I been someone else, I might not have been able to tell the difference."

Fah'yn nodded thoughtfully, "To have modified a human to be this close to a hybrid...the things they must have had to do..."

The Archdaemon snorted derisively, "Just like _humans_ to be willing to go this far. I don't even _want_ to know how many demons they've forced into this one here. And that one, modified since his time in the womb! And I thought the care that human mothers are reputed to give their offsprings was the _one_ redeeming factor for the species. Not even Wasteland vultures would toss their own chicks to the hounds!"

Sephiroth's pupils constricted at that, but to his surprise, it was Vincent who growled at the Archdaemon, his red eyes practically glowing.

"Do NOT speak of things of which you know nothing, demoness! His mother was not... You have _no_ idea of the circumstances..."

"Oh really? Did your so-called 'scientists' or 'doctors' or whatever drag his mother kicking and screaming to the examination table? Chained her down? Locked her up? For all the months this needed to be done? Risking a miscarriage from the combined stress of _that_ plus the physical stress of introducing foreign genetic material into the womb? Were there _no_ personal gain of any kind for her? For participating in the modification of her unborn child?" the Archdaemon sneered at the angry ex-Turk.

Vincent's eyes truly glowed now, but he clenched his jaw and didn't refute her. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he suddenly noticed Sephiroth's mako eyes on him and quickly darted his own crimson orbs away.

"Um, sis," Fah'yn cleared his throat, "it looks like you have a whole lot of things to take care of, and these two must be tired and hungry from following you around all day. Why don't I help you take them to their quarters and get them settled in?"

Tah'rh eyed the large stack of reports on her desk, "Ah, yes, that's a good idea. You know more about keeping humans alive than I do anyways. I've prepared some rooms for them at the west end. It's the one with the red door."

Fah'yn nodded and ushered the two men into the palace's maze-like hallways.

—

"Sorry about that," said Fah'yn gently once they were alone in the winding hallways of the Archdaemon's palace, "Tah'rh sometimes says things without thinking. She wasn't purposely trying to insult your loved ones."

Vincent tried to look anywhere but into Sephiroth's intense mako gaze, and tried to change the subject, "Why do you feel the need to apologize? She is the Archdaemon, and we are only her slaves."

"But you're not _my_ slaves. There's nothing wrong with _me_ apologizing to you, is there?"

"..."

Fah'yn chucked lightly, "And you don't need to worry so much about your status. Tah'rh really doesn't care what anyone does as long as they don't break something expensive. If anyone here tries to bully you, just fight back as much as you need. You don't need to hold anything back. That's what demons do really, challenge each other, test each other for weaknesses. If you show them that you are strong and stand your ground, then they'll back off. Oh, and if anyone tries to make any sexual advances, you can just accept if you want to, or refuse if you like. Contrary to human lore, demons actually prefer their partners to be willing..."

 _See? What have we been trying to tell you?_ Scoffed Chaos.

"...Although...some of them have rather vague definitions of 'willing'... And some of them have the power to force you to _become_ willing..."

Vincent gave his demons a pointed mental glare.

"...But I'm sure you'll be fine. I trust that my sister had made a careful choice despite all her belly-aching."

"Ah, I think this is it." Fah'yn stopped in front of a red door.

All three pairs of eyes widened as they entered. The room was choked full with a wild assortment of various objects: there was a pile of pillows, a big round rock, a giant lamp, a large tank of water, a pile of gravel, a tub of sand, a few bales of hay, a bowl of bones, a scratching-post, and what looked like a giant hamster wheel, among other, smaller objects. And from where Vincent was standing, it looked like the adjacent room was filled with tires, logs and nets and resembled the enclosures of gorillas and monkeys he'd seen in zoos.

Fah'yn rubbed his forehead. "That sister of mine... Hold on a second..." His blue eyes went distant and unfocused for a few moments, then he turned to the two men again, "There are some more rooms close by that are more suitable. Please come with me."

The young man led them down some more hallways before stopping at a white door, "See if this one is more to your liking."

Vincent and Sephiroth slowly stepped into what looked like a modest, cozy one-bedroom suite, complete with living-room, kitchen, toilet, and bath and shower. Large glass doors let in the sunlight from one side of the living-room, and opens to a comfortable-looking porch, which then leads to a small garden, then an impressive, dense forest.

"Is this...usual for slaves?" asked Vincent, showing an expression of surprise that Sephiroth rarely got to see on the stoic gunman.

"No, not really." answered Fah'yn, "The previous Archdaemons of the 7th had a building that was specifically built for housing slaves, but since sis had banned slaves from the Circle, and didn't see herself ever getting any, she converted it into something more...err...'economically viable', she said. A casino I think it was. Even with you here, she didn't think it was worth the investment to build another slave house, and the Archdaemon's palace has plenty of unused guest rooms anyways, so she figured she'll just give you one of those. So, do you like it?"

"It's...very nice..." said Vincent carefully, unsure of what else he should say. This Archdaemon might be a little...eccentric...but he still wasn't sure if he could really refuse anything she or her brother chose for him. And besides, this was already far beyond his expectations. Sephiroth simply nodded curtly as he continued to study the rooms around him.

"Hmm...it's a little sparsely furnished though... This one hasn't been used for a very long time. We'll probably have to bring in a few more chairs and tables...maybe some rocking chairs for the porch... The kitchen needs some more work too... We'll probably be needing some extra bedding and pillows for the bedroom... And you'll probably need some more toiletries..." Fah'yn mumbled to himself as he walked around the rooms, his tail tapping thoughtfully behind him.

Vincent turned to the silver-haired young man from his own inspections and found a pile of pillows—the same pile that had been in the first room—mysteriously lying on the small couch in the sparsely-furnished living room. The ex-Turk narrowed his eyes at them. Out of habit from his Turk days, he had noted and memorized everything that was in the room as soon as he entered through that white door, and he was certain that those pillows had not been there just a moment ago.

"...But that can come a bit later. The essentials are all here. I'll go and see if I can find you two something to eat. Why don't you look around in the meantime and tell me if there are any specific furnishings or other things you'll need."

"Is that...really alright?" asked Vincent uncertainly.

"Of course!" Fah'yn gave the ex-Turk a wide, disarming smile, "My sister might be a bit of a miser, but she'll spend the money if you can give her good reasons to do so. If you need anything, just tell me, and I'll talk to her for you." With that, he left the room in search of some food for his sister's new slaves.

Now alone in the room with Sephiroth, Vincent pretended the best he could that he did not feel the heat of the former general's mako gaze descending upon his back, even though he knew very well the futility. He had been foolish, inexcusably so. The Archdaemon's careless words had struck right into old scars, awakening emotions long thought buried. And now the ex-Turk dreaded the questions that the Silver General was sure to ask.

"Vincent, just then, what you said...you knew my mother? You saw what they did..."

"No...I..." the ex-Turk refused to meet the former general's gaze and instinctively began to draw away.

"VALENTINE!" bellowed Sephiroth as he reached forward to stop the ex-Turk, desperate and near bursting from hope and frustration. Sixty. The pale gunman had said he was sixty. That meant he had already been a grown man at the time of Sephiroth's birth. Twenty-seven. He'd have been twenty-seven then. Old enough, experienced enough, to perhaps have been in the first division of the Turks, maybe even 1st or 2nd in command. He knew things. He _had_ to know things. He had pretty much admitted it in his outburst to the Archdaemon.

Vincent caught the flash of Sephiroth's hand coming towards him from the corner of his eye, and his body instantly moved in reflex. He snapped his arm away from the reaching hand and his other arm shot out, the heel of his palm smacking right into the former general's jaw.

Sephiroth staggered back a few steps and eyed the ex-Turk's fully battle-ready defensive stance; the stinging from his jaw not nearly as bad as the strange constricting sensations in his chest at the ex-Turk's defensiveness. Roaring in frustration and other, unknown emotions, he charged into Vincent, knocking them both hard against the wall.

Vincent immediately retaliated, bringing all his Turk ruthlessness and his savage demon claws into play. Sephiroth reacted in kind with his own warrior's ferocity, and the two of them tumbled across the room, crashing into what few furniture there were in the area, before Sephiroth finally succeeded in pinning the ex-Turk to the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around Vincent's head and left shoulder. In that position, Sephiroth pressed his own left shoulder downwards to squeeze the arm with the dangerous demonic claw against the ex-Turk's neck and away from the former general's body, and also to try to weaken the struggling ex-Turk by constricting his air ways. Vincent continued to struggle violently, but with his legs and claw angled uselessly away from his opponent's body and his human hand ineffective against the battle-hardened warrior, he could not throw off Sephiroth's greater weight no matter how hard he tried. The gunman's eyes began to flicker gold.

Smarting from more than a few claw marks and bruises, and guessing himself to look no better than a beggar with what was left of his make-shift clothing, Sephiroth took a deep breath as he prepared to yell his frustration out at the impossible man under him, beyond caring that it would be a most unusual display from his usually cold and stoic self. He stopped short however, when he caught scent of...something... It was coming from Vincent, and it smelled...good. Sephiroth turned his nose a little closer to the pale ex-Turk, silver brows furrowed as he tried to investigate this strange, faint smell.

"BLOOD AND FIRE! What the FUCK did I _JUST_ say about property damage!" the door smacked against the wall and the fuming Archdaemon came charging in.

Still tangled on the floor, the two men turned to her in surprise, and she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

Fah'yn came running in right then, juggling what looked and smelled like a pot of tea in his left hand and some kind of squealing boar under his right arm, and he also stopped dead in his tracks...when he came upon the frozen frame of his twin and a certain...glint in her eyes.

"Um... Sis...?"

"Say, Fah'yn, you've been out and about before you got here. Tell me, how are people reacting to the news of me purchasing slaves?" asked Tah'rh, her eyes unmoving from said slaves.

The silver-haired young man's brows furrowed, "They're quite surprised and gossiping about it quite vigorously. ...As we all already knew they would."

"But how fast and widely has the news traveled?"

"As fast as always. Even the Spirit Realm's now talking about it. ...Why?"

"I just had a GREAT idea to make us some good, fast cash." Tah'rh said as a wide, ominous grin began to spread across her face, her dark eyes never leaving the tangled forms of her new slaves.

Fah'yn looked worriedly between his sister and the two unfortunate souls on the floor. That grin had _never_ meant well for the subjects of her money-making schemes.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Nami of the manga and anime series "One Piece" belongs to Eiichiro Oda. I'm only borrowing her and make no profit from her. The only characters in this chapter that are my own creations are Tah'rh and Fah'yn.

 


	14. Fast Cash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Violence, blood

"I call it: The Duel & Screw." Tah'rh announced proudly.

Tseng and Fah'yn exchanged knowing, exasperated looks.

The Archdaemon sure can move fast when she has fast cash in her sights, mused Sephiroth. She somehow threw together a large spectator event, which involved advertising, ticket sales, planning for security and accommodation for the influx of thousands of visitors, utilities, condiments, equipment, staff, volunteers, etc etc., in just two day's time, and tossed her two slaves into a fully set-up, fully seated stadium, fully expecting them to...'Duel & Screw' right on the spot.

Well, almost. She did take them to the backstage first to explain what was expected of them. Though Sephiroth strongly suspected that she would have skipped this step altogether and just dropped the two hapless men straight into the arena if Tseng or Fah'yn weren't there to reminded her that perhaps the two stars of her show needed a little bit more preparation.

The former general looked over the assortment of weapons displayed before him. Dueling with Vincent wasn't something that Sephiroth entirely disagreed with. In fact, the warrior side of him was quite excited at the prospect of finally having a good fight after so long of being bound and caged. And Valentine looked to be a skilled opponent who won't disappoint. It was the second part, however...

"I won't do it." said Vincent simply, his crimson eyes flashing in a rare display of rage.

"Why not? Are you so certain that he will completely outmatch you and pound your pale ass into the ground? Pardon the pun." asked the Archdaemon slyly, "I don't think you have reason to worry so much. After all, you did quite well against him when you two were happily destroying my palace."

He and Vincent didn't really do that much damage in that...quarrel they had. A few chipped wooden furniture, at most. But Sephiroth doubt that the Archdaemon will deign to hear the argument.

"But if you _really_ don't want to do this with _each other_ ," grinned the Archdaemon, "that's fine. I guess I could get some of those lazy asses milling about in the dungeons to be your partners instead. Or maybe even some of those beasts in the back there. In fact, that might be a better idea, some of the chimeras are in heat and are a bit restless and destructive of late...and there _is_ the certain risque, crowd-pleasing aspect of bestiali-"

"Fine." Vincent nearly spat from between his teeth, "Fine." He dramatically turned his back on the Archdaemon, seething. Sephiroth blinked, he was sure that there was a tattered cape that swirled and billowed around the ex-Turk at the dramatic turn, though Vincent was wearing only a simple ensemble of black buttoned shirt and black pants.

"How can you be so sure that we won't kill one another..." ...or someone else, thought Sephiroth to himself, "...while battling?" The...'swords'...that they were presented with were little more than heavy, toy-like cylinders with buttons on them. That is, until the buttons were pressed. Then blades of light shot out from the cylinders (which turned out to be the 'hilts' of the 'swords'), making quick work of the wood blocks they were provided with, and making strange humming noises when swung. The 'guns' that Vincent was looking over were strange and toy-like too, and they made odd 'pew pew' noises when they fired. The streaks of light that they fire out however, also prove that they were no mere toys.

"If you do manage that, then that's fine by me. One less mouth to feed."

Tseng aimed a pointed glare at his sovereign.

"...But, for now, we do need you to be in one piece to put on a good show before the other Archdaemons, so you'll each be shadowed by a referee," the Archdaemon gestured to two large spheres resting on the floor beside them. The spheres were about as wide as a person is tall. Inside they were hollow, with room enough for one person, a comfortable-looking seat, and what looked like controls for an aircraft.

"The referees will cast a shielding spell on their respective charges. It will prevent most types of injuries from being lethal, but will not prevent the injuries themselves," explained the Archdaemon, "and if they judge it necessary, the referees can strengthen the spell into a hard shell. Has the added effect of encasing and immobilizing the person it's cast on. Quite neat, not to mention useful..."

So...that spell somehow prevents them from being able to kill each other, but not from inflicting damage upon each other? So he can go at the stubborn, thick-headed, _impossible_ TURK without having to hold back? Sephiroth glanced at the long, thin, still-visible welts on his forearm left by a certain someone's demonic claws. He had to admit, he liked the idea.

"...And if one person is deemed in need of the hardened shield, then the other is considered the winner of the match. You're quite lucky. For your first match, you'll have Fah'yn volunteering to be one of the referees. He probably knows more about how to keep humans alive than anyone in the Circle, so it's now less likely...err...more unlikely than usual that you'll be dying here."

"Sis..." Fah'yn sighed, "this idea of yours, its..."

But Tah'rh had already turned around to the heavy curtains to peer out at the rows upon rows of spectators in their seats outside, "Isn't this awesome? Look at this crowd! Just _think_ of how much we'll make on concession sales alone! Maybe we'll even get some decent largesse! ...And will you look at that, we even have some _angels_ coming down from their high-horses and sneaking in here to watch."

Fah'yn sighed again and shrugged at Sephiroth and Vincent apologetically, "I'm truly sorry about this, it's really impossible to argue with her with this much money on the line. So many people..." Fah'yn's tail tapped steadily just above the ground as he paused in thought, "if every one of them just give one Yem of largesse then..." the young man cocked his head innocently as his dark blue eyes casually glanced at the sudden twitch in his sister's pointy ears, "and if they all give two Yem then that'll be..." Tah'rh's lips began to move in silent, mumbled calculations, "Ah, but not everyone's so generous with their largesse. You'll have my full understanding and sympathies if you two plan on doing just the minimum required and getting this ridiculousness over with as quickly as possible. Being forced to do this must already be very hard on you, and demon spectators can be so very demanding with their entertainment. And considering who your master is, you two will likely never see any of the profits anyways, what incentive could you possibly have to prolong your suffering. Ah, but I _have_ heard that last year's production of "Kingdom Hearts" went over so well with the audiences that they earned over 1000 Jin in largesse alone."

Tah'rh whipped around to face her slaves with such an intense glint in her eyes that all the men in the room involuntarily took a step back, "You two, if you put on a good show and earn me some good largesse, then I might become so busy rolling in money that I'll forget to station guards around the Central Library, especially around the 6th floor, where Aether Current charts and Axis maps and other important documents are kept."

"Tah'rh!" protested Tseng, his eyes wide. Tah'rh promptly stuck a report in front of his face.

"If you can think of another way to make this kind of money in just one day, I'd love to hear it."

"This..." Tseng stared at the report, "if we can make...then we can start on the re-construction of the harbour right away..."

Vincent cast a long look at the serenely standing Fah'yn, then narrowed his crimson eyes at the excited Archdaemon, "...You will keep your word?"

"Of course," Tah'rh pushed her fists into her hips, striking a pose that once again resembled one of Yuffie's, and spoke in a tone that was a clear parody of Tseng's, "An Archdaemon's words are _never_ spoken in jest."

One of Tseng's brows twitched from behind the report, the veins about his temples seeming to enlarge somewhat. Fah'yn coughed in a poor attempt to hide his amusement and then quickly found something very interesting to look at in the opposite direction of Tseng's vicious glare.

"And what exactly will you consider a 'good' largesse?" asked Sephiroth slowly.

"The equivalent of 5 Yem from every spectator in the stadium. You'll have to take my word that it's not an impossible sum." replied Tah'rh, and neither Fah'yn nor Tseng voiced any protest, "So, do we have an understanding?"

Vincent and Sephiroth glanced at each other more than a little uncomfortably, then gingerly...VERY gingerly...nodded. They'll be forced into this whether they like it or not, bargain or no. Whatever games the demons played, they will have to play along, for now.

"Great!" said Tah'rh as she peeked out one more time from the curtains, "The audience look like they're all settled too! Tseng, how are things going on Reno's end?"

"Reno reports that all outside traffic have settled and the premises are secure," said Tseng, PHS in hand, "shall we head to the box seats, _Archdaemon_?"

Tah'rh tossed a snort at her First Councilor at the small revenge, then turned to her slaves.

"May the Force be with you." Tah'rh waved at the two men with a wide, sly grin, then turned and followed Tseng out to the stairway.

...

Sephiroth watched in fascination as Fah'yn and the other referee cast the shielding spell upon their respective charges. Apparently the spell was quite complex by the amount of concentration it required from its caster, though the casting itself looked pretty simple. The silver haired young man's lips moved in a whispered incantation in time with his index finger as he traced an abstract pattern onto Vincent's chest. The touch from the referees' fingers were light and emotionless, strictly for the purpose of spell-casting. Still, a subtle air of tension settled over the ex-Turk at the contact—a tension that Sephiroth knew all too well. The former general doubted that either referee noticed though, so deep were they in concentration.

By Gaia, if it was this bad just with this simple, superficial touch, how were they supposed to carry out the level of intimacy that the Archdaemon demanded of them later on? Sephiroth's brows furrowed uneasily. Mako green eyes glanced over at the ex-Turk. Well, he will just have to make sure that the winner of this match will be none other than himself, the former general decided. Loosing, and having to lie still and allow someone else to touch him how ever they wished...it was unthinkable.

A strand of light followed in the referees' index fingers' wake. Once completed, the abstract pattern brightened momentarily, then settled to a dim, unobtrusive glow over the two fighters' hearts. Sephiroth felt a slight hum of power hovering over every inch of his skin, feeling very much like the faintest of breezes wafting over him and all around him. Fah'yn smiled at the two fighters reassuringly, then donned one of the large helmets that the other referee had already had over his head. The helmets looked a lot like the ones that Shinra infantrymen wore. Sephiroth had always disliked those helmets, finding them to be large and cumbersome, and they covered too much of the wearer's face. It was almost an open invitation for Shinra's enemies to disguise themselves under one of those helmets and infiltrate Shinra's defenses. But the referees' helmets seemed to serve a viable function. When the referees entered the large spheres and powered them up, the spheres' surfaces wavered and disappeared from sight. Sephiroth guessed that this served the dual purpose of avoiding blocking the spectator's views, and preventing retaliation and escape from the combatants the referees watched over. The helmets must have allowed the referees to see each other's spheres while they remained invisible to everyone else.

Before the spheres fully disappeared however, pale blue lights shot out from them and formed into the shape of a cage around each fighter. The spheres then floated into the air and carried their charges through the large curtains, into the large open stadium.

The crowd roared in excitement and then chittered in appreciation as Vincent and Sephiroth were brought out. The spheres hovered around for a bit as if picking a good spot to drop their charges, and then they did exactly that. The pale blue cages suddenly disappeared, and their prisoners unceremoniously dropped into the arena below.

Both Vincent and Sephiroth landed gracefully onto the dirt ground, their backs to each other. Vincent wasted no time in whirling around, guns blazing from both hands as he fired in rapid succession, straight at the most vulnerable areas of the silver general's body. Sephiroth didn't miss a beat either. He too quickly turned around and blocked all of Vincent's shots with his blade of light. The 'bullets' of light hit the 'blade' hard and disintegrated into showers of sparks. The force of the impacts sent strong vibrations through the swordsman's arms and wrists. Vincent kept up his assault mercilessly, and the blade of light danced before the former general, blocking shot after shot.

Blocking the shots was taking more energy out of the former general than the ex-Turk firing the shots, and Sephiroth knew it wasn't wise to stay on the defensive like this. He tried evading Vincent's shots by swiftly dashing to the sides, but the agile gunman matched him step by step, not for a moment relinquishing his control over the spacing between them.

Breaking the ex-Turk's assault would require some careful maneuvering. Having an actual metal blade would be easier for what Sephiroth had in mind, but as luck would have it, the 'hilt' of the odd light-sword had a decent sized piece of metal on it. Carefully moving into position while blocking Vincent's shots, Sephiroth hissed quietly as several 'bullets' grazed his skin. But he had succeeded in getting both of them in the right place without Vincent noticing his plans. The former general blocked another one of Vincent's shots, reversed his blade and brought it up in impossible speed, angling the hilt so that the sun reflected off the metal piece and shone straight into the ex-Turk's crimson eyes. Vincent blinked and flinched in reflex, but recovered much quicker than the former general would have liked. The ex-Turk's guns stayed up, muzzles still aimed at their target, and only a slight pause interrupted their insistent barrage. Sephiroth knew better than to try to move away. Any sound he made would have had the temporarily blinded but far from disabled ex-Turk instantly honing in on his position. But the slight pause in Vincent's attacks gave the swordsman just enough time to adjust his swings to do more than defend. An arc of compressed air soared towards the ex-Turk and met the on coming 'bullets' head-on. Both forces disintegrated on impact, creating a mini-explosion of light and sound.

Vincent blinked as the dots in his vision cleared, all his senses sharp and alert as he scanned his surroundings, expecting the former general to use the cover of the mini-explosion to sneak up on him. But Sephiroth never moved. Instead he used the precious time bought to him to cast his signature Shadow Flare. Four spheres of dark energy materialized around Vincent, then converged on their target like hellhounds rushing to their prey. But they were too slow; Vincent easily dodged them by leaping into the air.

Sephiroth had expected as much; he was not planning on catching the nimble gunman with Shadow Flare. It was just a diversion to buy him time as he dashed towards his opponent. Seeing the ex-Turk leap into the air, the swordsman kicked his powerful legs into the ground and launched himself at his free-falling opponent, his blade poised to make a full, lethal swing. Twin guns however, instantly trained onto the swordsman even as both their wielder and their target traveled through the air, and bullets of light unerringly sped towards Sephiroth's heart.

Sephiroth always had been impressed with this ability of Vincent's to shoot down his targets even in the middle of leaps and somersaults—had always found the ex-Turk beautiful when he watched him sail through the air like a black-and-crimson spectre, raining death upon his opponents with the accuracy of a true grim reaper. But that did not mean being on the receiving end of it was fun. Sephiroth was forced to adjust his swing to a less powerful one in order to be fast enough to block the on-coming bullets, and he did not get nearly as close to the gunman as he wanted. But the time and opening he had earned for himself was good enough. Subsequent arcs of compressed air had the power to not only block Vincent's 'bullets', but to also continue onwards towards the ex-Turk. Vincent deftly dodged the arcs of compressed air and shot at the former general whenever he had the chance, but he was now clearly on the defensive. Sephiroth, now no longer hindered by an unending barrage of bullets, aggressively pressed forward in a bid to close the distance between him and the gunman. The former general knew that although his arcs of compressed air could reach opponents at a distance, they rapidly loose speed and power the further they traveled from their origin. Trying to best the ex-Turk in a contest of attack range would be a foolish effort. If he were able to close the distance between the two of them however, then the match would be his.

Vincent swiftly leapt backwards away from Sephiroth. The open, flat terrain truly wasn't favourable for the ex-Turk against the ex-SOLDIER. The silver general also had the advantage in stamina. Even if Vincent managed to evade Sephiroth all the while and lead him on a chase around the arena, it was likely that he would tire sooner than Sephiroth. His best chance in winning this fight lie with his ability to end it quickly. If he had some materia, then it might have been easier. His natural talent for magic had always been as important a part of his arsenal as his skill with guns, and that talent has only grown with his forced joining with the demons. But without materia, any magic will have to come from his transformations. But which one? Defeating Sephiroth was difficult, but defeating the Archdaemon and escaping from Hell was much, much harder. The only card he had to play against the powerful Archdaemon and the demons of her Circle was the element of surprise. The ex-Turk had long decided that he will not let out his most powerful demon, Chaos, unless either it was absolutely necessary, or when it came time to make his escape. He would rather not reveal Hellmasker either—the demon's potent curses will be invaluable against foes that would otherwise be impossible to defeat. That left Galian Beast and Death Gigas.

Death Gigas had stronger attacks, but was a bit slow...physically and otherwise... If the slow-moving demon was able to land a hit on Sephiroth, then the injury it caused might slow down the swordsman enough to give Death Gigas a chance to win the fight. But on the flip side, Death Gigas might not be fast enough to avoid Sephiroth's attacks. When the former general was under Jenova's control he could perform powerful magic attacks without needing to use materia, and judging by the Shadow Flare, Sephiroth had not lost the ability. And compared to all his other demons, and even Vincent himself, Death Gigas' resistance against magic attacks was abysmal.

Galian Beast's attacks were less powerful, but the demon was fast and tough and could stand up to both physical and magical attacks. However, Sephiroth might be able to better predict Galian's attack patterns since they had fought alongside each other when they first arrived in Hell. And the animal-like demon wasn't particularly cunning either...

Vincent gritted his teeth. Either choice would be a risk, and he really, _really_ did not like the consequences of loosing this fight. But—crimson eyes darted towards the Archdaemon's box seat—he knew well the implications of being _owned_ , of being completely under the power and whim of another, and this 'Duel & Screw' was NOT the worst that could possibly be forced upon him. Vincent took a silent breath. He had made his decision. Now, he just had to find a way to distract Sephiroth long enough for him to go through his transformation.

The lack of concealment from his usual crimson cloak or the specially tailored Turk uniform was yet another hindrance. If he had known that the Archdaemon was going to spring _this_ on them, then he would have at least worn a long coat—Hell's summer heat be damned. ...Though Sephiroth somehow still managed to be comfortable in his ever-present long coat... But Vincent had never been foolish enough to allow himself to become wholly dependent on these things. The ex-Turk allowed one of Sephiroth's attacks to graze him and made it look as if it forced him into a roll. Discreetly turning his body slightly away from Sephiroth to hide his left hand, he reached into his holster and switched his handgun for another that he equipped. This one was heavier and slower than the guns he's been using up to this point, but it had the power that Vincent needed. When he came back up from his roll, the gun in his left hand was charged and ready, and aimed at the next coming arc.

A large bolt of light shot out and crashed into the wave of compressed air with a resounding boom. Sephiroth was forced to shield his eyes from the resulting flash of light and dust. The next thing he knew, large balls of flame came flying at him from behind the shimmering air and residue sparks. He barely dodged in time. The fireballs barreled into the walls behind him, singeing the edges of his black coat and billowing his silver hair wildly about him. A few of the fireballs flew into the audience, and shimmering magical shields of various shapes and sizes promptly went up. The walls around the arena were high enough, but the audience were unshielded and susceptible to stray bullets and other projectile attacks. Sephiroth had wondered about it, but it appeared that stray projectile attacks were also part of the entertainment. The audience cheered quite excitedly whenever a bullet or fireball or arc of compressed air came flying out. Sephiroth even caught from the corner of his eye, one of the demons showing off a hole on his arm from one of Vincent's stray 'bullets' to his neighbours.

But there was no time to muse on these things; Galian Beast's fireballs were pursuing the former general relentlessly. Ignoring singeing clothes and hair and the waves of heat and dust that assaulted him, Sephiroth narrowly dodge the first three fireballs, then was forced to roll to avoid the fourth. Coming up from his roll, he found himself cornered to the arena wall. An idea suddenly came to him. He swung his blade in a rapid succession of quick shallow strikes, and sent several small arcs of compressed air into the next coming wave of fireballs, making them fan out then roll inwards onto themselves. He then leapt backwards, bounced his momentum off of the arena wall, and sent himself flying over the screen of churning flame. Once he was directly above Galian Beast, he gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands and willed his body to drop from the air, the deadly point of his light blade aimed downwards as he landed almost right on top of Galian Beast. The beast's speed was also impressive however; he easily leapt away from Sephiroth's attack, and when he landed, he was now directly behind the former general.

The force of Sephiroth's landing had created a shallow crater in the dirt around him. His blade however, seemed to have sunk too far into the ground, and he was now struggling to pull it back up. Silver hair billowed about him from the air that was stirred up from his failed attack, and left his back and vulnerable neck exposed to Galian Beast's eyes as he stuggled with his sword. Seeing his opponent exposed and crippled, the beast instinctively went in for the kill with bared teeth and savage claws.

Sephiroth however, was counting on just that: Vincent might have been able to see through his ploy—or at the very least, known better than to give up his advantage in attack range and foolishly engage the master swordsman in close combat—but it was clear that whenever the gunman transformed, it was not his mind, but a more feral, instinct-driven mind that controlled his actions. The former general simply pressed the button on the hilt of his sword to make its light-blade disappear, and then dropped the empty hilt onto the ground. In his other hand was already a second sword hilt. Turks were not the only ones who can use secondary weapons hidden on their persons, after all. As the first sword hilt dropped out of the way, he activated the light-blade of the second, and aimed a hard slash at the ground, sending a pulse of air, along with sand and grit spraying into Galian Beast's face. It worked just as he had hoped; the beast staggered backwards and was forced to turn his head and blink away the sand. Sephiroth used the opportunity to close in on the beast with a quick dash, then, planting his feet firmly into the ground, he twisted his powerful torso to deal a brutal slash into the beast's vulnerable flank. Galian Beast roared in pain as his great form was sent flying into the air. Sephiroth jumped and followed him and mercilessly cut into the demon with a rapid succession of eight powerful slashes, then finished with a forward slash that sent the purple-black form flying across the arena and into the arena wall. The arena wall behind the beast crumbled onto the already bleeding body. With a feral roar and a valiant struggle, the great beast threw the broken remains of the wall off of his back, staggered a few steps towards the silver general, golden eyes savage with surprise and pain, before finally collapsing face-first onto the ground. Red light flashed around him, and soon it was once again the slender ex-Turk who lay unmoving in the swirling dust.

Sephiroth's brows furrowed. He hasn't been announced the winner yet. Was there something more he was supposed to do? He approached Vincent carefully. The ex-Turk was ominously still—he didn't even seem to be breathing. An uneasy feeling settled in Sephiroth's gut as he leaned over the pale gunman. Had the referee or the shielding spell failed? Was Vincent...

Without warning, demonic claws suddenly flashed into his vision. Sephiroth was barely able to dodge the surprise attack. Blood splattered onto the arena floor from deep gashes across his jawbone. If his reflexes had been any less than what they were, then Sephiroth would have been missing half of his face right now. The former general almost smirked. He should have known that the stubborn ex-Turk wouldn't go down that easily.

Undeterred by the failed surprise attack, Vincent quickly rolled over and took out his gun with his right hand. But he was weakened by his injuries and was at a disadvantage against Sephiroth at close range. The shot went off but he was not fast enough. The bullet only grazed the silver tresses by Sephiroth's ear as his hand was caught by the former general, and soon he was forced onto his stomach with his right arm twisted against his back.

Straddling the pale ex-Turk, Sephiroth forced the gun from Vincent's grip and pressed its muzzle into the back of Vincent's skull. The shielding spell around the gunman flared to life and a gong-like sound rang through the arena from the tall tower that stood beside the Archdaemon's box seat. Sephiroth looked down at the slender man under him as healing spells washed over the both of them. Their weapons of light seemed to have been deactivated too, and were now silent and useless. The ex-Turk stayed still where he was. They both knew who had been announced the winner of the match. And now...the hard part.

 

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 **P.S.:** I actually haven't planned this on purpose, but it seems that I have updated this chapter of Star Wars references on May the 4th =P


	15. Maiden Voyage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Upping the rating of this fic from "Mature" to "Explicit". I hope you all know what that means. But just to be on the clear side: this chapter contains graphic descriptions of sex. Very, VERY public sex. 5000 words of sex. Sex sex sex sex sex. There, that should be enough warning/advertisement, yes?

The crowd cheered at the sound of the gong, and then fell silent expectantly. Sephiroth discarded the useless gun in his hand and stared at the still form that he was straddling, the adrenaline from the battle still pounding in his ears. The shielding spell that had encased the ex-Turk had now receded back to its latent state as if hinting at what was expected of them. Sephiroth had won. And that meant Vincent had to submit to him for...

Sephiroth took in a quiet breath as he considered the implications. He had never been close to anyone enough, never trusted anyone enough, to engage in such physical intimacy, but he had (unwillingly) witnessed the antics of some careless people in SOLDIER, as well as seen certain hidden stashes of magazines and videos in the barracks. It _had_ occurred to the former general that this had the potential to inflict great pain on Vincent, and perhaps force out some answers that the ex-Turk had stubbornly refused him. But he dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. For one thing, the ghost of Angeal will probably come charging out of the Lifestream, hunt him down and lecture him about SOLDIER honour for the rest of his life. And for another...there was a small voice at the back of his head that vehemently rejected the idea. Sephiroth couldn't quite understand it. He knew that the ex-Turk had an impressive tolerance for ungodly amounts of pain, but he didn't _want_ to be the one who's inflicting it. Especially not in this way. Something this intimate... He wanted to...wanted to...do it...'right'. But how? He had never found touch to be pleasurable, and had no idea how to touch another so that it would bring them pleasure. And from what he's seen, Vincent disliked the sensation of being touched as much as Sephiroth did...and all the knowledge the young general had regarding sex where information he read from medical books, and whatever he had happened upon in the SOLDIER barracks...and Fenris  & Co.'s antics...

"You might want to start by taking off his clothes." the Archdaemon's voice drawled almost mockingly from the box seats.

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. He was being forced to perform sexual intercourse in front of thousands of strangers for their entertainment, for money, money for people who owned him. The familiar feeling of being helpless, of being an object for someone else's success, washed unpleasantly over him. When he was very young in the labs, for a long time all he could do was curl up into a ball in some dark corner, trying to hide from the scientists. But they'd always find him, drag him out of his feeble sanctuary and force him to do whatever they wanted. But as he grew older, he realized one very important thing: he may be a 'specimen', but he was a very precious specimen — and these people _needed_ him. They _needed_ him to be strong, to be their perfect specimen, their perfect experiment, their perfect SOLDIER. They _needed_ him to be a symbol of success and perfection that can be put on display — a symbol of _their_ success and perfection. And so with that knowledge, he slowly began wrestling bits and pieces of control from his keepers. By the time he became ShinRa's teenaged general, not even President ShinRa — the man who owned him as a piece of corporate property — would dare push him too far. And then all that fell to smoke and ash, quite literally, when Jenova took over.

At first he had been happy, truly happy for once, for finally having found the truth about himself, for finally having found his place in the world. But it did not last. By the time he realized he had once again been lied to, it was too late; Jenova had already sunk her claws in, too deep for him to break free. And then he was introduced to a completely new level of helplessness. At least in the labs, his actions, his decisions had been his own. Under Jenova's control, nothing was his anymore. He couldn't think clearly, his mind was filled with the cacophony of _her_ , eating him away from the inside; and his body moved and acted against all his unwillingness, betraying him again and again—completely and utterly under someone else's will.

And now that his body and his will were his again, he was a slave, one who was being forced to play a dangerous game in a world that he did not fully understand, against non-human masters whose moves he did not yet know how to predict. Sephiroth looked down at the unmoving body underneath him. Vincent was completely silent and still, and the blank expression on his face...Sephiroth immediately recognized it as one that he himself had once worn on the operation tables in the ShinRa labs. ...Gaia... Sephiroth let out a silent breath, he was being forced to... His hand tightened around Vincent's captive wrist as he glared up into the Archdaemon's box seat. He won't do it. He can't.

"Just do it." the quiet ex-Turk suddenly spoke through gritted teeth, "Neither of us is ready to engage her in battle yet, and we have nothing to bargain with her."

The silver warrior's mako eyes flared. He knew the truth in Vincent's words, but his temper blazed at the gunman's resignation. He leaned down and growled into the ex-Turk's ear, "And are you going to tell me that _this_ is 'only your body performing a necessary action'? That this is simply arranging one's limbs a certain way? Are you such a _Turk_ that not even this means anything to you? Have you no self-respect, no sense of self-worth left in you?"

The slender body underneath him suddenly bucked with surprising force, and Sephiroth found himself flipped onto his back, with the ex-Turk now straddling him.

"If _you_ are too _soft_ to do it, then I will." the ex-Turk growled as he roughly jerked the buttons of his own shirt open, his red eyes glowing as he glared down his nose at the general underneath him in mocking challenge.

Sephiroth's pupils narrowed to mere slits, his male instincts instantly reacting to the ex-Turk's challenge. He had fought hard in their "Duel", and he had won, fair and square! He jerked his own hips against Vincent and shoved the ex-Turk back into the ground, growling into his face. Vincent growled back, yet made no move to fight Sephiroth. For a moment the silver general just paused there, scowling at the ex-Turk as if daring him to try a counter. But the ex-Turk didn't. He just lay there, glaring, but not moving. Then Sephiroth suddenly realized that Vincent was now lying half-naked underneath him: his pale chest exposed and heaving under his unbuttoned shirt, his belt slightly loosened from the struggling and riding suggestively low on his narrow hips, and his flashing, defiant crimson eyes glaring up at him, waiting for—no— _urging_ him to start...

Sephiroth had always found the pale gunman beautiful. But the way he was now...he was absolutely breathtaking. And there was that smell again. It smelled so, so very good, mixed in with Vincent's unique scent of leather and gunpowder and the cold, wild scent of winter storms. Sephiroth inhaled to take in more of that wonderful scent, drinking in the sight and smell of Vincent as if he were parched for a lifetime. And in a way, he was. This is the first time that he's been this close to another's body, in this way. It's not that the silver warrior had never wrestled or straddled another man, but this was different. Very different. Never in any wrestling contest had he ever been so acutely aware of the contact between his hips and his opponent's. It was as if every nerve on his body was alight with hyper-awareness, sensing things that he has never noticed before. He could feel Vincent's body heat rising up from underneath his groin, along with the speed and strength of his pulse, the firmness of his thighs...and Sephiroth's cock twitched. Ancient instinct buried deep within him stirred and awakened, and soared through his veins along with the adrenaline that had yet to die down from their earlier fight, and suddenly nothing else mattered but the partly-undressed ex-Turk that lay waiting beneath him.

Something...something marred his enjoyment of the sight of the ex-Turk though... Sephiroth's eyes focused on the abstract pattern of the shielding spell still faintly glowing on Vincent's chest. His hand rose up to cover it, blocking it from his sight, and a strange thought flashed through his mind: it did not belong there. One day, he will win the right to mark the ex-Turk as his own. Slowly, as if being drawn by gravity, Sephiroth's head dipped lower and lower until his lips met Vincent's in a soft, experimental kiss.

Both the kiss itself and the chasteness of it took Vincent by surprise. For a moment he simply froze, unsure of what to do. Then the young man on top of him withdrew from the kiss and studied him, frowning a little. Sephiroth's face was a bit flushed and his eyes were a bit glazed over, as if he were in some sort of lust-driven trance. But apparently he was sensing something wrong in Vincent's lack of response, and blinked as if he was coming out of that trance. Vincent suddenly realized that Sephiroth was not going to continue if he thought Vincent was unwilling. Something inside him that had been coiled tightly, defensively, suddenly uncoiled and relaxed at that realization, and Vincent wasn't entirely sure of his reasons for it — perhaps it was the doings of his demons, who had been fully alert and attentive all this time, or perhaps it was the plans of escape and the thought that they couldn't afford to openly antagonize the Archdaemon just yet — but his hand reached forward, hooked around Sephiroth's head, and held him there while he lifted himself up a little and pressed their lips together.

As if some floodgate has been opened, the silver general took a deep breath and pressed forward almost hungrily, and lips and tongue melded together and wrestled one another in pure primal instinct and want. His hands slipped under Vincent's unbuttoned shirt and drifted over the ex-Turk's firm, toned torso, feeling and memorizing every contour. They stopped however, when they ran over the dark nipples that rose from the pale planes of Vincent's chest. They were soft, surprisingly silky to the touch, and slightly cooler than the rest of Vincent's body. And when his hands brushed over them, there was a slight hitch in Vincent's breaths. Gently, experimentally, Sephiroth rolled one of the little buds between his fingers and watched in fascination as it began to harden, gathering the surrounding ring of dark skin tight about itself. The sound of Vincent's breathing changed. It became slightly quicker, deeper, with occasional irregularities in its steady rhythm. Heat pooled in the ex-general's body at the sound, and he moved to repeat the same action with the other nipple.

Vincent watched Sephiroth silently, dark brows slightly furrowed. Sephiroth was moving as if purely by instinct, exploring every bit of exposed skin as if he had never felt the heat of another's body before. Those mako eyes watched him with rapt attention, and every slight reaction seemed to bring fascination and wonder into their blue-green depths. And there was no mistaking the touch of innocence in them. Had Sephiroth...never done this before? Was he...untouched? At the back of his mind, his demons perked to that realization.

But at the time of the Nibelheim incident, Sephiroth had already been 25 years old. And such a celebrated war hero was sure to be the object of worshipful affection for many young women, and men. Raven brows furrowed deeper as Sephiroth's hands left his nipples and resumed their travel down his torso almost tentatively. His fingers gently circled the dip of the ex-Turk's navel, and traced the jagged lines of his scars.

Then a sudden thought occurred to the ex-Turk. The tension in Sephiroth every time somebody came too close to him, every time someone touched him, the unease in him when Fenris offered to... Had Sephiroth never experienced any human touch beside the kind that was given in battlefields and labs? By Gaia... A strange anger swelled up within him. His demons stirred uneasily at the sudden burst of silent rage from their host. Sephiroth stopped in his actions and stared wide-eyed at the ex-Turk. If it were any other time, any other situation, then Vincent might have found amusement in the expression on Sephiroth's face. The former general looked as if he were a child that was caught doing something he should not, staring wide-eyed, afraid, waiting for the reprimand. Vincent pushed down hard on his own rage. Hojo was dead. There was nothing more he could do to the evil bastard. Sephiroth, however, was here, now...

Slowly, carefully, Vincent reached out a hand and placed it on Sephiroth's forearm. The ex-general tensed. Vincent forced the anger that threatened to swell up again to dissipate. He let the hand linger there until he felt the muscles under it relax slightly and saw mako eyes blink at him in question, then he let his hand travel gently up the former general's arm until he reached the collar of Sephiroth's long coat. Grabbing hold of the collar, he then eased the coat off the broad shoulders, carefully watching Sephiroth all the while.

The former general shivered at the unexpected, gentle touch. Once the coat was gone, warm hands then moved to his belt. Sephiroth allowed Vincent to help him out of the rest of his clothing, and afterwards, moved to help Vincent out of his. The ex-Turk watched unmoving and unresisting as Sephiroth lifted his feet and removed his pointy boots, and when Sephiroth tugged at his pants in unspoken question, he lifted his hips slightly, silently giving his former enemy his consent. Sephiroth swallowed. The two of them were now sitting facing each other, naked. And Vincent was sitting there looking at him, wearing nothing but a fingerless glove that they had yet to remove. His neck, his shoulders, were enticingly close, barely a hand-width away from Sephiroth's enquiring senses, and that strange, intoxicating smell was stronger than ever.

Without thinking, Sephiroth wrapped his arms around the lithe form and pressed his nose into the curve of the ex-Turk's neck, inhaling that wonderful scent. His tongue, as if having a mind of its own, mischievously darted out to get a taste, and his teeth and lips moved instinctively over the smooth soft skin. A warm hand carefully placed itself onto his waist, and Sephiroth felt both the familiar urge to break away from the touch, and the strange new urge to have the hand move and touch more of him. Slightly uneasy at the conflicting urges, Sephiroth took the hand, along with the demonic claw that was being carefully kept away from his body, and brought them both around to be pinned securely behind the ex-Turk's back. He then gently lowered them both back down to the ground, finding the position easier for his lips and tongue to explore more of that strong, supple body. Vincent made no move to resist either actions, and his hands stayed obediently behind his back even when Sephiroth's hands left to travel along his sides. Sephiroth felt a surge of heat rush through his body at the ex-Turk's submission, and the knowledge that he had won Vincent's submission by besting the ex-Turk through fair battle only made the heat run hotter, shooting directly to his groin. His hands traveled down and cupped the firm buttocks, his once explorative fingers now pressing into the ex-Turk's flesh with insistent, possessive force. Vincent's hips bucked slightly and their hardening arousals brushed against one another. Sephiroth sucked in a sharp breath. It's not that he had never touched himself before, but this, the feeling of hot, velvety skin of another's sex sliding against his own, was _incredible_. He tightened his hold on that tight ass and ground his groin into Vincent's. His kneading fingers came closer and closer to that deep groove between the cheeks until one of them brushed a delicate, puckered ring of muscle hidden within.

The small pucker twitched at the contact, and there was an audible hitch in the ex-Turk's breathing. Curious, Sephiroth feathered his fingers across the sensitive opening again. This time, not only the ex-Turk's breathing hitched, the powerful muscles in Vincent's buttocks and thighs also flexed involuntarily under the taut skin. Sephiroth looked up at the subtle blush on the ex-Turk's pale skin and ground down on the unmistakable hardness rubbing against his own. He added the pressure of his fingers and let them play as they will around the delicate pucker. Vincent's crimson eyes were open and watching, but there were no objection in them. Encouraged, Sephiroth added even more pressure and boldly pushed his finger through the delicate ring. Vincent's body suddenly gave a jolt and pain flashed in those crimson eyes. Startled, Sephiroth instantly tried to withdraw, but Vincent's hand suddenly clamped around his wrist.

"Slowly." the ex-Turk bit out through clenched teeth.

Sephiroth followed the instruction and slowly, carefully withdrew the offending digit. Vincent sat up a little and allowed himself a moment to muse at the almost panicked expression on the former general's face, then said quietly and patiently, "Sephiroth, we need lubricant."

Sephiroth blinked. He understood what Vincent meant. He remembered seeing something like that in one of those videos he'd seen in the SOLDIER barracks, remembered Zack's 'discussions' with Kunsel about how saliva always dried too fast, how ketchup was too messy,* and the pros and cons of different types and different brands of artificial lubricants. But he never paid them much attention. He never thought that one day he'd wished he had. Nor did he ever expect himself to wish that he had woken up a bit earlier that night on the slave ship so that he'd know what Fenris and Inuyasha had used for lubricant. Right now, he was drawing a complete blank on what he could use in his present situation, in this large, empty arena of nothing but sand and dust.

Suddenly, a small bottle of clear liquid dropped onto the ground beside him with a 'plop'. The two men looked up to see one of the referee's spheres becoming partially visible to reveal Fah'yn inside, giving them a knowing smile and a slight, encouraging wave, before going invisible again.

"WHAT? You mean human males don't produce their own lubrication? What a troublesome species! How the fuck are they able to be so damned prolific?" the Archdaemon's incredulous voice sounded from the box seats.

Sephiroth blinked, a low growl rumbled in his chest as he was suddenly reminded of the demons and why he was here. Vincent sighed inwardly. If they were to finish this, it looked like he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. Pulling his fingerless glove off his hand with his teeth, the gunman grabbed the bottle and applied an ample amount of its contents onto his fingers. Leaning back a bit and propping himself up on his elbow, he then reached for his own opening.

Sephiroth's full and undivided attention jerked back to the gunman at his actions. And once again, he was completely fascinated as Vincent's finger slowly slid in and out of himself. Glancing towards the bottle of lubricant, he then copied Vincent's example and thoroughly lubricated his fingers, then joined them with Vincent's in that warm, moist orifice.

At first Vincent tensed at the new intrusion, causing Sephiroth to freeze uncertainly, but then the ex-Turk nodded reassuringly at the former general and guided the inexperienced digit inside him with his own.

Vincent was hot, and very very tight. Sephiroth was amazed at how good it felt moving together with Vincent's finger inside that pulsing passage. He almost lost himself imagining what it would feel like with those soft muscles tight around that most sensitive part of his body, but then remembered his earlier mishap and clamped down on his impulses with an iron will. Instead he slowly and patiently explored that wonderful passage, and was delighted when the muscles, as if having a mind of their own, contracted and undulated in response to his touches.

Vincent slowly withdrew his own fingers and allowed Sephiroth free reign to explore him on his own. He focused on his own breathing and worked to will the familiar feelings of intrusion and unease away. He was in too vulnerable a position for his liking, having his body open and defenseless to the ministrations of another man like this — and to Sephiroth, brutally efficient war general, son of Hojo, former madman and former enemy no less — and memories he rather preferred to forget began to surface unbidden. His demons however, were having none of that. They growled viciously into his mind and brutally ripped away the unwanted memories. It's been too long since they've been allowed to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, and they would not allow these unpleasant past experiences to get in their way. Vincent almost grinned. Sometimes, _sometimes_ , it's _almost_ good to have these four feral minds sharing his own. He slowly willed his body and mind to relax and allowed his own baser instincts to take over in preparation for what was to come.

He hadn't failed to notice Sephiroth's efforts to be gentle however. The former general added each finger slowly and carefully, watching the ex-Turk's every reaction all the while. It must have been very hard for a young man who was experiencing such pleasures for the first time. Pre-cum was already running down Sephiroth's swollen erection, but the former general kept his brows furrowed and stubbornly forced himself to hold back. Despite his formidable will however, the greatness of his need was obvious. And Vincent, despite his reservations, was quite capable of handling rougher treatment.

"Sephiroth," Vincent once again placed a gentle hand on the former general's forearm, and let his crimson eyes meet mako green, "that's enough." With that, the gunman leaned back on both elbows, lifted his hips a little, and allowed his pale thighs to part, slowly, meaningfully. Sephiroth swallowed. No male could have missed the invitation.

In the next moment, Vincent found Sephiroth's lips crushed against his own in a hungry kiss. The forward momentum of the silver general forced them both back down to the ground, and a hot, blunt object soon prodded at the ready opening. In an almost involuntary jerk of his hips, Sephiroth pushed past the moist ring of muscle. He moaned into the kiss, almost shaking in overwhelming bliss. Vincent's heated flesh felt absolutely wonderful, wrapped so tightly around his sensitive arousal. Sephiroth wanted nothing than to drive relentlessly, over and over again into that tight, warm embrace, but he held himself back. He didn't want to be taken over by his primal urges, he didn't want to finish so fast. He wanted to make the pleasure last, but most importantly, he wanted to make the stoic ex-Turk moan. Pouring his rampant desires into the kiss, the former general forced himself to enter the ex-Turk as slowly as he could while his tongue ravaged the ex-Turk's mouth with the forcefulness that he would have liked to apply elsewhere. The warm cavern behind Vincent's soft lips held its own pleasures and provided ample distraction until Sephiroth finally buried himself to the hilt inside his prize. Both men's chests heaved against each other as Sephiroth paused for a moment to let Vincent adjust, and to let himself calm his own wildly beating heart.

It all came naturally and fluidly after that. Vincent's narrow hips bucked slightly, and Sephiroth's began to rock in response, starting a gentle, steady pace. The two bodies moved with each over, arching, grinding in an ancient rhythm that gradually became faster, wilder. At one point Sephiroth hit upon something inside Vincent that drew out an audible gasp. The ex-Turk then tightened his legs around the former general's waist and drew him inside of himself, hoping to distract the young warrior — the more rational part of his mind was not yet ready to reveal this most vulnerable secret to his former foe. But even in this state, the ex-general was not fooled. He locked the gunman's hips in his powerful grip, holding him still as he angled himself again and again into that spot, forcing the ex-Turk to surrender his secrets as shivers ran uncontrollably up and down his spine.

Sephiroth listened to each and every gasp that whispered against his ear. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer. But not yet, not yet. He wanted to hear more. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Vincent's erection and pumped in rhythm to his thrusts. The irregularities in the ex-Turk's heavy breaths were obvious now, as were the muscles' quivering underneath his pale skin. But the ex-Turk did not give this final surrender until the last moment, until the determined general ran his calloused thumb across the tiny opening on the aching head and drove himself mercilessly into his captive's most sensitive, most vulnerable and undefended flesh. Vincent's low, breathy moan echoed in the victorious general's ears as his captive cock twitched and shuddered in his captor's hand, and was forced to spill forth the milky white of surrender. Sephiroth gave a primal roar of triumph as his own seed poured into the wildly contracting orifice, filling it, claiming it.

Overwhelming waves of pleasure surged through his veins. The silver warrior's body trembled, and, draining the last of his essence into that warm body that was both under him and around him, he collapsed, exhausted, onto the ex-Turk's pale scarred chest. A strange warmth rose from his core and spread into every pore of his body, soothing his tense muscles into a relaxation never known to them before. The warrior's eyelids fluttered then closed, lulled into gentle slumber by the strong, steady heartbeat pulsing beneath his own.

—

Vincent simply lay where he was for a long while, taken completely by surprise by his own orgasm. He had expected this to be nothing but grim necessity at worst, primal rubbing of flesh against flesh at best; had expected the ghosts of his past to come back and haunt him with a vengeance. This was Sephiroth after all, his former enemy, his sin, born of the union between the woman he loved with all his heart—and ultimately failed, and the man he loathed with every fibre of his being. And yet the Silver General, the Conquerer of Wutai, was now lying with his head on his chest, sleeping peacefully—almost like a child, spent from his first taste of the pleasures that could come from the warmth of another's body. The situation was so unexpected, so strange, that the ex-Turk was at a complete loss as to what he should do.

Fortunately for Vincent, the awkwardness of the moment was soon alleviated when a massive shield of midnight rose to cover the arena. He heard the Archdaemon's voice announce the end of the show, and through the dark, semi-opaque shield, he saw the shapeless forms of the audience move to the exits. Carefully, tentatively, he placed a hand on Sephiroth's shoulder in an attempt to wake him up, half expecting the battle-hardened light-sleeper to jolt awake and reward his efforts with a fist to the gut. Yet said battle-hardened light-sleeper only stirred sleepily, leaned into the soft touch, and then seemed to fall even deeper into slumber. Vincent blinked. It would seem that even if a large part of this silver-haired young man had been irreparably warped by corporate greed and mad science and alien poison, deep in his subconscious his human heritage still recognized and yearned for the simple comfort of a gentle touch.

A movement in the periphery of his vision brought him out of his thoughts. The ex-Turk looked up to see soft, clean, good-sized lengths of black fabric materialize from the darkness of the shield and drift like pieces of the night down to him and Sephiroth. Looking over to their torn and dusty clothes and feeling the stickiness of the aftermath of their recent activities, Vincent accepted the fabrics appreciatively and wrapped them around himself and his sleeping companion, and then waited patiently until the two spheres of the referees appeared before him.

"Come," said Fah'yn gently as he gestured to the other sphere, which the other referee had vacated, "I'll take you back to your rooms."

Vincent nodded and looked towards the former general. Sephiroth was still in deep sleep and didn't look like he'll wake up on his own any time soon. Vincent considered waking him, but decided against it. It's less awkward this way for them both. So instead, the ex-Turk carefully picked up the silver form, sat himself into the empty sphere's seat, and cradled the sleeping general carefully in his lap. Fah'yn waited until they were settled and secure, then ran a hand over the controls of his own sphere. A pale blue light then extended between the two spheres, linking them together as Fah'yn led them gently and steadily into the air.

Vincent looked down upon Sephiroth's sleeping face. The expression on the former general's face was so unexpectedly soft, so child-like, that he reminded Vincent very much of that time, long ago, when he first saw him in the lab. Vincent's chest constricted at the remembrance. Was this the true Sephiroth? Had that wide-eyed silver-haired child, though raised in the cold, sterile labyrinth of metallic contraptions, unceasing electronic beeps and monsters wearing faces of men, still against all odds, grew up to be the magnificent young man of flesh and blood who was now sleeping in his arms? The young man who he, through his cowardice, his selfishness, had abandoned to lies and madness? Vincent's grip tightened involuntarily around the sleeping form as he sightlessly watched the rust red of Hell's twilight sky slowly turn to the inky black of night.

* * *

 

*in reference to the...creative use of ketchup in Orin Drake's "Crack is Good"


	16. Labyrinth

The results from the 'Duel & Screw' far exceeded expectations. The amount of largesse received averaged about 8.50 Yem per spectator. Tah'rh had already arranged for a second and third 'Duel & Screw', and from the way the seats were selling, it looked like she might even arrange for a fourth or fifth.

True to her word, the day after they received the sales data, the Archdaemon made special arrangements to dismiss all but the bare minimum of guards around the Central Library and even personally took her slaves there, making up some half-hearted excuse about suddenly wanting to go and read during high noon — the time of day when demons were most inactive, due to the high temperatures from the blazing midday sun.

"You know what, it really wasn't a good idea to come out here at this obscene hour. I'm suddenly unbearably sleepy." said Tah'rh unnecessarily loudly to the library's empty main lobby as she plopped down on one of the couches provided for visitors there, "I think I'll just rest here for two hours, which is when that hand on the clock goes there," she pointed as she dramatically yawned and closed her eyes, "I'll just be here, sleeping, beside these elevators, which leads up to the 6th floor, the floor with the maps and stuff. My slaves will just stay with me this whole time, not doing anything. Certainly nothing like wondering around and reading or anything of the like. And I expect them to be here with me when I wake up in two hours, sharp."

Vincent and Sephiroth eyed the large empty lobby, the silent, unused elevators, and the 'sleeping' Archdaemon, then quietly set to action. It wasn't very hard working out which of the strange symbols on the elevator buttons meant the 6th floor, for only one of them worked. Obviously Tah'rh had already sent word ahead to the library staff, and there was not a soul in sight in the impressive-sized library. But Vincent slipped silently into the shadows anyways. He felt safer, more at ease this way. Who knows what kinds of tricks the Archdaemon might be up to, and even if she wasn't up to anything, who's to say that some other demon didn't just happen to suddenly want to read at noon, and accidentally came upon the Archdaemon's slaves wandering where slaves most obviously should not.

Although...there seems to be somebody else here who didn't share his caution. Just when he was starting to wonder how he was going to find the right shelves in this maze of bookshelves, where all the signs and directions were written in the demons' script, he noticed that there were several large, bright-green paper arrows stuck to various shelves pointing the way. The ex-Turk's raven brows furrowed. He frowned at the overly-conspicuous directions for a long moment, but ultimately, gingerly, decided to follow them.

Sephiroth didn't share the ex-Turk's caution either. He strode down the shelves looking very much like he owned the place and had every right to be there, and paused from time to time when a book cover caught his eye.

Vincent had heard that Sephiroth had been a voracious reader before the Nibelheim Incident. The young general had preferred to bury himself in a book over participating in the rambunctious activities that the other young men in the SOLDIER barracks got up to. Seeing him there, wandering between the giant bookshelves of an abandoned library, was bringing up unsettling images of how the silver general had spent the final days in Nibelheim before his descent into madness. Vincent had no time to dwell on these thoughts however, for he suddenly caught a movement from the corner of his eye. He turned around just fast enough to catch sight of a pale, graceful, long-fingered hand retreating behind the shelves after sticking on another one of those brightly-coloured arrows. In one swift leap Vincent cleared the rows of shelves that stood between him and the disappearing hand, but when he looked down the shelves where the owner of the hand should be, there was no one there. Crimson eyes narrowed, the ex-Turk sharpened his senses to the still air around him.

It didn't take long for the ex-Turk to pick up a faint rustling to his right. There was the hand again, an impossible distance away, sticking on another arrow at a T-shaped intersection formed by the shelves. As before, the hand quickly retreated into the shadows between the shelves, but there was nowhere for the owner of the hand to retreat to, for the shelves that hid the owner of the hand stood against the wall on the other end, forming a cul-de-sac. Vincent wasted no time cutting off the mysterious person's only escape route and closing the gap between him and the shadowed area between the shelves. But when he got there, again: there was nothing there but empty air.

Sephiroth came up behind the puzzling ex-Turk and peered into the empty space over his shoulder, but dismissed it with an uninterested shrug and continued on following the bright-green arrows.

Vincent cast one more look around his surroundings, then once again melted into the shadows behind Sephiroth.

It turned out that those huge green arrows led them straight and true to the shelves that contained maps and charts that document the flow of the Aether Currents around 7th Circle. They bore enough resemblance to nautical charts for the ex-general and the ex-Turk to recognize them for what they were. Vincent's demons remembered enough of the demon script to recognized the words for "Wastelands", "Sunless Harbour", and "City of Gold"—the capital city of 7th Circle, their current location. The rest of the various symbols and different coloured lines on the maps however, were a complete mystery. Vincent's brows furrowed at a disc that was drawn with two kinds of lines for its border: a bluish wavy line inside a solid pink line. The disc seemed to be floating somewhere off the coast of the Sunless Harbour. There were a few others like it around the harbour, though some were only half-circles, all with the bluish wavy border but not always with the larger pink border. He didn't remember seeing anything that they might have represented when he was there. It looked like what time they had left before the Archdaemon 'woke' were all going to be spent on trying to decipher how to read these maps, and Vincent had no idea how much progress they'd be able to make, or if anything they managed to learn would be of much help.

Sephiroth also studied the odd disc that Vincent was focusing on. Somehow it looked vaguely...familiar... That odd shade of blue... Suddenly, Sephiroth recognized what it represented: the bluish, turbulent ball of energy that signaled a potential vortex, which Tah'rh had used to transport them from Junon to Sunless Harbour.

The former general quickly shared his discovery with the ex-Turk. Vincent was evidently deep in conversation with his demons at that moment, for the crimson eyes that looked up were heavily flecked with gold, and they regarded the former general with a feral and almost...predatory...light flickering in their depths. But the ex-Turk then blinked and, looking down at the maps with eyes that were once again their normal crimson, he pointed out all the symbols and writings that his resident demons recognized. Remembering what Tah'rh had said about 'seasonal vortices' and 'summer vortices', Vincent then immediately worked out that the pink border must have indicated whether or not a vortex was seasonal, and the demon numbers written around the pink border must be some kind of indication of when the seasonal vortices appear. As for some of the patterned lines that flowed throughout the maps, Sephiroth remembered when he had been floating in the Lifestream, he noticed that there were some parts of the liquid life force that flowed at different speeds from the rest of the Lifestream, or even in different directions, and the interactions between those parts and the main stream created interesting-looking patterns of light and shadow in the seemingly uniform mass of glowing green. A few of the lines on the maps resembled those patterns he'd seen almost exactly.

And thus, the two men—and four demons—worked to piece together the information that the maps held with their combined knowledge, experiences, and guesses, until a rustle from somewhere above them made them both look up. High on the wall just overhead, hung another bright-green arrow, with its head pointing conspicuously upwards towards the clock that was hanging just above it. Time's up.

—

Also true to her word, the Archdaemon was not negligent of her slaves' basic needs. In fact, with Fah'yn's help, Vincent and Sephiroth found themselves quite generously provided for. Apparently Tah'rh had tasked her brother with finding food suitable for humans, and the silver-haired young man took to his task _quite_ enthusiastically.

"Err... Fah'yn, are you _sure_ that humans need all of this? I'm pretty sure I've seen humans surviving on much less..." asked Tah'rh as she frowned at the small mountain of various kinds of meats, fruits, vegetables, etc. that her brother had brought back, her fingers unconsciously scratching at the pocket where she keeps her wallet.

"Yes but did any of those humans look as good as they do?" Fah'yn asked back, gesturing to Sephiroth and Vincent, who were both quietly standing to the side.

Tah'rh eyed her brother suspiciously, then reluctantly shook her head.

"And that's because those humans were under-nourished. If you want Vincent and Sephiroth to look their best, and I know you do, both for your "Duel & Screw" shows, and for the show you put on in front of other Archdaemons, then you'll need more than just the bare minimum for human survival." Fah'yn then began to patiently go over the various kinds of foods he brought and explained in detail about carbohydrates, vitamins, minerals, essential proteins, amino acids, fatty acids, sodium chloride, good cholesterol, bad cholesterol, etc etc. Sephiroth knew that the battle had been won long before the young man was finished, and Vincent had long since started to consider the various cabinets in their rooms and calculate the amount of storage room they had versus the estimated volume of the small mountain of food.

For their clothes, the Archdaemon and members of her council argued furiously over what they should wear. Tah'rh rejected the traditional clothing for an Archdaemon's slaves from the outset, finding them too gaudy and completely unflattering for her beautiful slaves. But the designs that she favoured were not at all suitable for Archdaemon traditions and protocols. Other suggestions from the council ranged from having them wear nothing at all to ridiculously complex and ungainly costumes. Some of those suggestions didn't even take into account of how many limbs the two men actually had. But still, every one of the members of the council was adamant in his or her own ideas on how to make the Archdaemon's slaves dress to their finicky master's tastes and adhere to the traditions at the same time. And while they argued, all Sephiroth and Vincent had to make do with for clothes were the long pieces of cloths that Tseng had provided them the day they were bought. Mercifully for them, it was Tseng who finally stepped in and vetoed everyone with the most level-headed and practical solution that anyone else on the council had been able to come up with. Tseng's strategy was simple: have Vincent and Sephiroth wear the traditional slave attire — modified slightly to Tah'rh's tastes — during formal meetings with the other Archdaemons and demon lords, and have the palace clothiers prioritize the making of those clothes first. And for less formal settings, they will just have to make do with something acceptable from the local clothing shops until they come to an agreement about the style and design of the slaves' day-to-day wear. Apparently it was quite a common hobby of demon lords to dress up their slaves in various costumes in casual settings, and so having the Archdaemon's slaves be seen wearing store-bought clothes of various styles wasn't too inappropriate or uncommon. And since they were fast running out of time before Vincent and Sephiroth were to appear before thousands of spectators from all over the Axis for the 'Duel & Screw', the rest of the council grudgingly agreed...and then started arguing again about who should go shopping for the slaves' clothes.

Hearing their troubles, Fah'yn offered to pick up some clothes for his sister's slaves along his travels...and was met with a resounding, unanimous "NO!" from the entire council, and most loudly of all from Tah'rh. Fah'yn then pointed out that it was already less than a day before the 'Duel & Screw' was to begin...

In the end, Tseng, the First Counsellor of 7th Circle, took the task of taking his sovereign's new slaves clothes-shopping entirely onto himself.

Sephiroth could _almost_ sympathize with the dark-haired demon for having such a demanding and eccentric sovereign. It was clear that the First Counsellor wasn't very much interested in clothes at all. He took his two charges into a clothing shop for humanoid customers, curtly acknowledged the surprised but polite greeting of the shopkeeper, and then simply sat himself in a chair in the corner — frowning and scribbling over the designs for formal slave attire — while Vincent and Sephiroth went about the shop picking out their own clothes.

As he walked between the colourful aisles of clothes, Sephiroth couldn't help but muse that this was the first time he had ever gone shopping at a clothing store. When he was younger in the labs, he wore whatever the scientists and the trainers gave to him. When he became the living symbol of ShinRa's power, the president brought in esteemed designers and tailors to have the Silver General's entire wardrobe custom-made. By then Sephiroth had won himself enough influence to make some decisions for himself, and he insisted on having his say on the designs. President ShinRa, drunk on his own success at the time, gladly indulged his favourite general. And by then Sephiroth had played ShinRa's games of politics long enough to know how much to push his designs while staying within the president's comfort zone. Still, ShinRa's finest simply did NOT go _shopping_ at local stores. They had a small army of assistants, runners, coffee-carriers, etc., for that.

It seemed that an Archdaemon's slaves weren't really supposed to go shopping at local stores either. Many curious glances where thrown their way from the few customers who were already in the store, and Sephiroth's sensitive ears picked up more than a few whispered speculations on what could have prompted the presence of the First Counsellor of the Circle and the Archdaemon's new slaves in this modest clothing store. But the people of the Circle seemed to be well-acquainted with their ruler's antics; many of them guessed correctly — from Tah'rh's stubborn rejection of propriety to the bickering in the council to Tseng's headaches. One glance from Tseng's dark eyes hushed them all however, and they all maintained a respectful distance from the odd trio while doing their best to pretend they're shopping as normal.

To Vincent and Sephiroth's pleasant surprise, they were both able to find clothing that not only fit them, but were also similar to the kinds of clothes that they normally wore back in their world. Sephiroth found a few coats that were very similar to the ones he wore as part of his SOLDIER uniform, and Vincent was even able to find some boots with pointy metal toes.

Most of the clothes they chose were either black or near-black. Sephiroth stopped mid-stride however, when he caught sight of a brightly-coloured T-shirt that was obviously two-sizes too large for him. When he was in ShinRa, all his formal clothes were black by default in accordance with the colour-code for first-class SOLDIER uniforms. His more casual clothes couldn't be called "colourful" either. He did not mind it. Black was a simple, elegant colour, and can withstand a lot of dirt and stain — a useful trait for the clothing of fighters. Genesis however, hated it and insisted on wearing a red coat on top of his black uniform. Zack never objected to the monochromatic uniform — it was what he had strived for for most of his young life after all. In his free time though, he preferred large, colourful T-shirts, sometimes decorated with some odd choices of words, or cartoon characters with huge, bulgy eyes. President ShinRa gladly indulged one of his second-favourites the red coat, but made it clear that T-shirts the likes of the ones in Zack's wardrobe, were off-limits to the esteemed images of the commanders of his army.

Focusing back on the T-shirt before him, Sephiroth pulled it from the rack to find that it was indeed quite similar to one of Zack's more outrageous shirts — complete with a cartoony character with large bulgy eyes on the front. Sephiroth couldn't help the curiosity that welled up inside him. He had never worn something like this before and didn't really understand the appeal, but he had always wondered what it would be like to wear a shirt like this. And why not? He was not in ShinRa anymore. It was worth a try to see if Tseng and Tah'rh would let him have it. Tossing the shirt into his otherwise very dark-coloured shopping basket, Sephiroth suddenly noticed that there were eyes on his back. He quickly turned to find Vincent casually browsing through another rack of clothes, looking very much disinterested in what the former general was doing. Sephiroth snorted softly. Valentine was a 1st-division Turk, no doubt about it.

When they brought their choices to Tseng, the dark-haired demon further confirmed his disinterest in clothes by paying attention only to the price-tag and whether the style and materials were too inappropriate for slaves. Sephiroth's T-shirt passed on all of those accounts, but they still had to report back to the Archdaemon for final approval. Tah'rh rolled her eyes on how much of their clothing were black ("I've seen _Watchers_ wear more colour than this!") and also how much leather there were and how many unnecessary belts and buckles the clothes had ("Not that I'm passing judgement on whatever kinks you're into..."). When she came to Sephiroth's T-shirt, she paused and raised an eyebrow at him. Sephiroth stood his ground and returned her stare. She then shook her head and muttered something to herself about how this is almost the exact kind of thing that " _he"_ would have picked, but otherwise did not object to their choices and approved everything.

Another thing that Vincent and Sephiroth found themselves surprisingly generously provided with — for slaves — was freedom of movement. They were unchained and unguarded, and did not wear collars or anything else that was enchanted with hexes. At first Sephiroth wondered about the apparent lack of anything that might prevent slaves from simply walking out of the palace's front door, but it soon became clear that even with no guards or chains to stop him, walking out of the Archdaemon's palace was no simple task. Many times he had found the hallways around their rooms completely empty and unguarded, and had tried to explore the palace and find one of its exits. But no matter which direction or route he took, he always found himself walking in circles in the seemingly endless hallways and end up right back in front of his own door. Sephiroth knew that it was not because he was wandering around aimlessly. The former general had an excellent sense of direction and remembered every turn he took. He even remembered the exact sequence of turns that Fah'yn had taken on that first day to lead them from Tah'rh's office to their rooms. Sephiroth had tried time and again to follow Fah'yn's route, but it was as if the hallways were alive and they shifted and molded themselves to lead him right back to where he began.

It was the same thing with the forest that surrounded their little guest suite. The trees were wild and dense, and were so tall that they blocked the sky. But Sephiroth had long since found that he could tell which direction he was heading in even without any of the visual aids that other people around him needed. And so even in featureless deserts, or dense forests such as this, he never came to walking in circles as other people did. But here, no matter how long he walked, he never was able to reach the other end of the forest. The trees just seemed to go on forever. However, he soon found that no matter how far or for how long he had walked into the forest, once he decided to give up and go back to his rooms, it would only take a few steps before the trees would recede to reveal the open space of the little garden by the porch.

Sephiroth had tried to get over the tree tops, but neither flying nor levitation worked. Levitation seemed to require Jenova to work properly, much like a lot of his other post-insanity abilities; and as for flying, for some reason the air just wouldn't flow over his wings the right way. If he tried to climb any of the trees, then it was the same thing: the tree just seemed to go on forever, but when he decide to go back down, it took no time at all. Same with trying to climb the palace walls above the porch.

Sephiroth growled in frustration as he once again dropped back down to the ground. Of course he hadn't expected escaping from an Archdaemon's palace to be easy, but he'd have preferred his obstacles to be more...traditional. Like chains and shackles and spells and armed guards. At least then he'd understand the nature of the things he must overcome.

The only things that the former general was able to find in the forest other than more baffling trees was a sizable clearing equipped with various dummies and bamboo stakes and other items ideal for sword training. He had also come upon another clearing equipped with bullseye targets and dummies that were obviously meant for target-practice for gunners, and he knew that Vincent had found it also. The two of them had been allowed to take their 'Duel & Screw' weapons back to their rooms with them, and Sephiroth brooded over how confident and unthreatened the demons seemed to feel about the armed slaves.

They've even been granted limited access to the Central Library.

Vincent had subtly mentioned to Fah'yn about how he was prone to nightmares and that books take his mind elsewhere and help him sleep. Sephiroth had seen Vincent during his nightmares, and he knew that no book could really be of help. He knew that the ex-Turk was simply trying to practice reading the demon script and also to find out more about the world they were in. Fah'yn agreed right away to help them get some books, and the two men expected him to simply give them a few books on random, safe subjects. Neither of them had expected the young man to come back telling them that Tah'rh had agreed to allow them limited-access library accounts, and Nami the Circle Treasurer had agreed to take the two men along with her during her regular trips to the Central Library.

 


	17. City of Gold

It turned out that Nami was an avid book-lover and visited the Central Library frequently. She also loved to drive her sky-bike — a popular means of transportation in the city — in a very fast, very acrobatic fashion...regardless of whether or not she carried her sovereign's rare, expensive slaves in the passenger seats. Vincent took a firm hold of the passenger seat's handles as they ducked under the wing of a wyvern, skirted over the back of a giant flying skate fish, then swerved into the on-coming traffic of flying demons and beasts and bikes and aircrafts of all shapes and sizes. Far, far below them sprawled the capital city of 7th Hell. Although it is named "City of Gold", there appears to be nothing "golden" about the city. The streets were a tangled web that radiated from the Archdaemon's palace, and the city's impressive collection of buildings displayed a wild assortment of colours and shapes — many of them obviously unsuitable for humanoid habitants. And it was clear that the Archdaemon was not the only one who could transform into giant beasts here. Vincent watched as a skinny old man with a long white beard leap out of an aircraft only to transform into a large fox with nine tails which then sped off through the air with purple clouds rolling about its/his feet. And not far below them, a dragon-like creature with golden leathery skin landed upon the roof of a tall building and then proceeded to transform into a young woman with dark, curly hair.

His demons were much enjoying the ride. They loved the sensation of flight, and currently they have all pushed as much as they could to the fore of his awareness, reveling in the sights and sounds and smells of the city, and the wild feel of the wind. Memories of their past lives — only shadows and blurs, but pleasant ones nonetheless — flickered and pulsed like embers though their fractured minds. Galian Beast was practically purring, though he idly wondered why all those creatures who could very well fly on their own were cramming themselves into flying machines instead.

 _Indeed, I'm wondering about it myself,_ said Chaos, _Host, perhaps you should ask the Wind Reader why she, as a dragonkind, is limiting herself to this...fragile contraption. There seems to be a reason that I can not recall, but I feel it is important somehow._

Vincent looked over at Nami, the "Wind Reader" that his demons speak of.

' _Dragonkind'?_ He asked.

Chaos scoffed. Death Gigas snorted in laughter gracelessly and Hellmasker made some snide remark about humans and ignorance.

Vincent simply ignored them and patiently, pointedly, waited for his answer.

 _The Wind Reader is a Sea Dragon, Host, how can you not recognize the very wing-mates of water and wind._ Chaos finally said, sounding very much unimpressed _._

_I apologize for not having a mental catalogue of denizens of Hell, apart from the four of you of course._

That earned the ex-Turk another round of amusement from his demons.

_Sea Dragons are not "denizen of Hell"._

_No._

_But kin._

_Born of the seas that flow between the realms of the Axis._

_Strong flyers, as all dragonkind are._

_As 'fast' or 'acrobatic' as you seem to think of this contraption that we ride, dragonkind are capable of much more._

_This...machine...is not worthy of her. We do not understand why she would use one._

_Sea Dragon..._ From the corners of his eyes, Vincent discreetly studied the slim figure of the Circle Treasurer who took her sovereign's unshackled slaves out in the city completely unaided and unaccompanied, _If they stand against us in a fight, would they be a problem?_

Death Gigas shook his angular head.

_Not warriors._

_Knowledge-seekers._

_Curious._

_Very curious._

_Explorers._

_Flyers._

_Powerful._

_Masters of magic._

_Do not underestimate them, Host, not even this young one._

Vincent nodded mentally in acknowledgment and made careful note of the look and feel of the dragon-treasurer's energy signature. At first glance it looked very much like the distinctive swirls typical of demon energies, but upon closer inspection, it moved in a more wave-like, undulating pattern.

Physical features are less reliable identifiers, but nevertheless, Vincent took note of the shape of her horns — which looked more like deer antlers, while demons such as Reno and Tseng sported ridged, curved horns that resembled those of certain species of antelope — and the subtle flecks of tiny iridescent scales above her brows, along her collarbones, and on her shoulder-blades. She also had a bluish tattoo on her left shoulder in the abstract shape of a swirling cross.

 _That is odd,_ mused Chaos, _Sea Dragons are usually very proud of their natural bodies and seldom try to alter it in any way._

 _Is it also unusual for them to be Treasurers of Archdaemons?_ asked Vincent.

A buzz of puzzlement was all the answer he received. The demons' fractured, feral minds could not understand what being a Sea Dragon and being a "Treasurer" had to do with one another.

Vincent silently sighed.

All of a sudden, from under them shot up a huge, gaudily-decorated, blindingly shiny aircraft that made way more noise than it needed to in its passing. Nami quickly rolled away to avoid getting caught in the turbulence in its wake, and Sephiroth, who was at that moment, leaning out to the side of the sky-bike, trying to get a better look at a half-transparent flying whale that was just passing them by, was almost thrown out of the sky-bike and was saved only by his own fast reflexes...and that of Vincent's. Both mako green and crimson stared in surprise at the pale hand that was now holding the former general's arm in its strong grip, then the two pairs of eyes met each other briefly, then the crimson eyes flinched away again even as the pale hand helped tug Sephiroth back into the bike. Nami was too busy working to maintain control of her bike to be paying much attention to her passengers at the moment though. Making use of her own fast reflexes, she was able to right her bike before colliding with any of the surrounding air traffic, all the while bellowing some of the most inventive curses at the big, careless aircraft, that Vincent and his demons had ever heard. And that was saying something considering that they've spent time with the likes of Barret Wallace and Cid Highwind. Below them, various flying creatures and objects spun and dodged around the turbulence and each other, yelling and screeching and roaring and honking.

Dark clouds then suddenly appeared from seemingly nowhere. They gathered around each other, growing thicker and thicker, darker and darker until a single streak of lightening flashed through their darkness — and straight into the nose of the gaudy aircraft. The aircraft trembled and keeled, its metallic parts creaking and groaning painfully against each other until finally, it just stopped dead, hanging stranded and helpless in the middle of the sky.

"Idiots. They should have been watching the winds. The weather today is terrible for large, metallic things to be so reckless." Nami commented lightly as the dark clouds disappeared as quickly as they came, and the sky was sunny and completely cloudless once more. Turning to the sky-bike's controls, she started them forward once again. The smirk that tugged at her lips as she turned away however, was not missed by the two men's sharp eyes. Above them, angry, chattering flying creatures and objects gathered around the unfortunate aircraft, which shuddered and wobbled as if its occupants where trying desperately to make it move — in vain.

"You better hold on tight," Nami warned her silver-haired passenger, "you may have wings, but the wind might not carry you if you fall."

"Oh?" Sephiroth turned back from the scene of the berated aircraft and righted himself in his seat again with all the lazy grace of a large cat, "Why might it not? Is it poor weather for human-sized slaves of Archdaemons to be flying also?"

Nami turned towards him with a small smirk, "No, it's because the Archdaemon didn't tell it to."

Sephiroth blinked, "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Nami grinned mischievously as she and a four-winged demon in humanoid form casually dodged each other by banking sharply to their right, "the wind won't carry you because the Archdaemon didn't say it can."

"You mean to tell me that the Archdaemon can dictate exactly who the very air will carry?" asked Sephiroth incredulously.

"And the water, and even the ground itself. You didn't think that all an Archdaemon does is crunch numbers and fill out forms did you?" teased Nami.

"Instead she fills her days with decisions about the air and the water and the ground for each and every last person in her realm." replied Sephiroth dryly, earning an amused guffaw from the young Circle Treasurer.

 _Not every last person,_ whispered Chaos. The other demons nodded in agreement, pieces of ancient memories slowly coming together to take shape.

Indeed, it was unlikely that the Archdaemon would actively grant or deny each and every person within her realm the basic ability to travel as they please, pondered Vincent. Glancing over at Sephiroth and Nami, the ex-Turk judged that they were both adequately distracted in their conversation at the moment, and so he focused inward, concentrating to hold both the fresh memories of the exchange between Nami and Sephiroth, and his demons' ancient, fragmented memories side by side in his mind. Even if Archdaemons somehow had the ability to pinpoint, identify, and track every individual at all times, it was highly unlikely that someone like Tah'rh would have the patience to sit around attending to that all day. And indeed, there was no evidence of such fine control over the populace in his demons' memories. The way that Nami structured her sentences… "The Archdaemon didn't tell it to..." "The Archdaemon didn't say it can..." Yet Nami never said: "The Archdaemon told it not to..." or "The Archdaemon said it can't..."

Perhaps...the Archdaemon doesn't give direct orders; perhaps by default, nobody can travel freely in Hell, and it was up to the Archdaemon to...do something to unlock the ability for her citizens... ...No...not all her citizens... Chaos insisted that he never needed anyone's permission to fly... The ex-Turk quickly did a mental survey of the air traffic around them, taking note of those who used flying machines, and those who flew on their own wings...fins...things... As he had suspected, most of the people using flying machines were non-demons, and most of the people flying on their own were demons. A theory slowly started to materialize in Vincent's mind, but he needed more information about this world. Information that unfortunately, his demons either didn't remember, or couldn't put into coherent thought.

"Why is this city named City of Gold?" asked Sephiroth as he surveyed the city of colourful, mismatched buildings below them with an unimpressed expression, "it resembles more a cadet's collection of tin cans and pointless trinkets than any precious metal."

Nami shrugged as she zipped by a flying rowboat, "Who knows, perhaps it's because there's always been something here that attracts people of all races to come here from all kinds of places. I think at one point the mining industry was quite good here, but that didn't last long. Maybe it's the casinos? There were a lot of those here even before Tah'rh became Archdaemon. You'll need to ask Tseng, he knows more about this city, and arguably about this entire circle, than anyone else."

"More than anyone? Even the Archdaemon?" asked Sephiroth.

"Well that's not THAT surprising, is it?" chuckled Nami, "Tah'rh is young and has only become Archdaemon quite recently. But Tseng, he has served 6 previous Archdaemons, he knows almost everything about the circle and how it runs. Not even many of the previous Archdaemons could best him in that."

"The Archdaemons...they do not mind this?" asked Sephiroth carefully. He knew well the delicate balance of power, and the jealousy that can exist between an absolute ruler, and his or her second-in-command. No matter how loyal or dedicated they are, a second-in-command who dares to appear too capable or popular, will often meet a swift and brutal end. ShinRa's board of top executives hadn't always been populated by nothing but a roster of cowardly opportunists who couldn't rub two brain cells together between the lot of them. Even Sephiroth had to be careful to not be TOO brilliant, least President Shinra begins to see him as a threat. Not that he hadn't, to some degree. There had always been a leash kept carefully about the three First-class SOLDIER's necks.

"...Yes, quite a few of them did mind," Nami's animated voice subtly, but noticeably fell soft when she answered, "But they needed him. The Circle needed him...which of course, did not make matters better...for Tseng... Perhaps it is one of the reasons why the Circle chose Tah'rh...?" murmured Nami, to herself.

"'Chose Tah'rh'?" sensing a slip of information, the former-general boldly pushed forward, "I heard that she won her position as Archdaemon by killing the previous Archdaemon."

Nami glanced back at Sephiroth from the corner of her eye, but then she grinned, "The Circles are not dead land you know, not like the Wastelands. The demons are born from them, and when they die, they return to them, and over time, will be born again from them. Of _course_ a Circle will have a say in who will become its Archdaemon."

"...You mean the Circles...have Lifestreams?" Sephiroth's eyes widened in realization.

Nami's dark eyes also widened as she looked at Sephiroth in surprise over her shoulder.

"So in addition to fighting the reigning Archdaemon to the death...a potential successor will also need to gain the favour of your Lifestream..." continued Sephiroth as he worked out the connections to himself.

"How did you... You know about the Aether Stream?" asked Nami, astonished.

"We...have something like that, a current of life...a collective consciousness... Back in our world, it is known as the 'Lifestream'." said Vincent, looking like one who didn't much care about the conversation, the way he lounged in his seat, looking casually out to the side, and the slow, half-distracted way he talked. Sephiroth knew better than to believe that facade.

"Oh?" Nami's brown eyes shone in genuine fascination, her full attention on her Archdaemon's slaves now, "What is it like?"

As happy as Vincent was that the Circle Treasurer took the bait, he wondered if he should be worried about a flaming collision, since Nami was keeping her eyes on them and the back of her head to the direction that they were traveling towards... ...Or perhaps he should be more worried that Nami nonetheless seem to have no trouble dodging on-coming air traffic like that.

"Large and green," replied Sephiroth with a shrug, "almost endlessly so. Seemingly still and tranquil, yet never silent and never unmoving. It's exactly how you described your Circle: all life on our planet are born from it, and dies to return to it, only to be born again from it. Though...it's consciousness is too...incoherent. I doubt it's able to make any decisions on who should reign over whom, nor make any other conscious decisions about the lives of the creatures it engendered. Until very recently, most of the populace did not even know of or believe in its existence."

That all changed of course, when certain...events...caused the Lifestream to surge out of the planet to stop the coming of METEOR... Neither Sephiroth nor Vincent made any effort to meet the other's eyes.

"Fascinating," breathed Nami, "to my knowledge, very few inhabitants of the mortal world ever learn of the existence of their Aether Streams...or Lifestreams... Streams of the mortal world are exactly that: incoherent, low-energy. And yet...you said it's never silent...you mean you can _hear_ it?"

"Only when I'm in it..." grumbled Sephiroth. Even during his fall into insanity, he had wondered why he couldn't hear the Lifestream if he was a Cetra. Jenova had assured him that it was simply because he was "incomplete", which would be remedied as soon as they achieved their grand plan of absorbing the Lifestream. How stupid was he to have believed that.

"Not all of us can hear it," Vincent spoke up, "but there was one ancient race in our world who could. We called them the 'Cetra'."

"'Was'? You mean they are no more?" asked Nami.

"...Yes," answered Vincent, choosing his words carefully, "most of their population had died, to a...parasite, thousands of years ago. There were a few survivors, though their numbers were so few that they were quickly forgotten by the general populace."

"So they were mortal? A mortal race who could hear the voices of the streams?" Nami's bike slowed and stuttered, and a few other flyers voiced their displeasure at the disruption in the traffic. Nami quickly turned back to the way ahead and righted her sky bike in the air traffic. But it was apparent that her mind had not left the conversation.

"A mortal race who can hear the voices of the streams...that's unheard of! Of course, once in a while some mortal individuals are born with the ability, but it's a special occurrence. An entire race! All members? Consistently having the ability to hear?" the sky bike navigated the busy skies just as smoothly as before, but was obviously a little slower, more hesitant, as its distracted driver muttered and pondered.

" _ **Not warriors.**_

_**Knowledge-seekers.** _

_**Curious.** _

_**Very curious."** _

"Miss Nami..." Vincent began.

Nami looked back and raised an eyebrow at the gunman at the formal address. This was another thing that Vincent and Sephiroth had noticed during their time in 7th Circle: the people here didn't seem to be too keen on formal titles and such. Even high-ranking Circle Council members such as Tseng and Nami were usually addressed simply by their names. Tah'rh herself absolutely hated getting addressed as "my lord", "my sovereign", or "Archdaemon", and even with her slaves, she insisted that they just call her by her name.

But Vincent had wanted to draw the Circle Treasurer's attention. And he got exactly that.

The ex-Turk adjusted his posture in his seat subtly, meaningfully, "...would you like to hear more?"

Thus began a game or sorts that they played during every trip to the Central Library: the ex-Turk and the former general would fish for information about the demons' world from the Circle Treasurer, in exchange for bits of information about their own world. Nami was every bit as shrewd as her two opponents, however, and cunningly danced around their efforts. It was only to be expected, really, of a dragon responsible for the treasury of the Circle. And Vincent and Sephiroth would be lying if they said they didn't enjoy having such a skilled opponent to play against in this battle of wits, this dance of guile.

Eventually it was clear that between Vincent and Sephiroth, Vincent was the one who talked the most. A lot of times the former general stayed silent as he listened to the ex-Turk, looking almost as fascinated by tales about his own world as the dragon Treasurer was. Particularly on things having to do with the Cetra. Vincent decided that there was no foreseeable harm in it. Likely most of what Sephiroth knew about the Ancients came from the flawed research of ShinRa scientists, and whatever the alien Jenova told him. It might do him some good to know at least some truths.

The way that Sephiroth looked at him when he's engrossed in the ex-Turk's stories however, was painfully, painfully familiar. It was the same look that had once shone in Lucrecia's eyes, one that spoke of a curious mind and passion for knowledge, and youthful willingness to go look where no one had looked before.

It was a look that had once deeply drawn a jaded young Turk, many years ago. Vincent flinched his gaze away, unable to look any longer. He did not fail however, to catch the look in Sephiroth's eyes as he did so. It was a very subtle change, one that most people would never have noticed — and certainly would never have expected from the Silver General. But for a split second, the man had looked...vulnerable... Hurt, even.

_Stop rejecting him so, foolish Host!_

_The Silver Fledgeling wants us, and you want him._

_Stop denying it._

_Why do you deny it?_

_**We** _ _most certainly find all his courtship displays most impressive. He is strong, willing, and you hurt this youngling unnecessarily with your rejection._

_Would he be less hurt to be mere replacement for a shadow of the past?_ Vincent argued back at his demons. The feral minds of the demons may have quickly and decisively come to the conclusion that "Host wants the Silver Fledgeling as mate", but Vincent himself was far, far from sorting through the quagmire that was his feelings towards his once-enemy. One thing was certain though: Sephiroth was Lucrecia's son. There was so much in him that reminded Vincent of that young, bright-eyed scientist — an expression here, a gesture there, until Vincent could not distinguish whether the demons' insistence that "Host wants the Silver Fledgeling as mate", was simply a misinterpretation of a remnant, a vestige of old feelings, old love, that still refused to dissipate from his soul.

_If you will but stop flinching your eyes from the past, Host, then you will see the truth in the present before you._

If it only were that easy. Vincent mentally sighed. The demons were right though, this was unfair to Sephiroth. He had been remarkably patient. Since their scuffle that first night in 7th Hell, the former general had made no further move to push the ex-Turk. He knew that Vincent understood what he wanted to ask, and he knew that Vincent had the answer. And yet he waited, patiently, for the ex-Turk to talk to him.

But Vincent was not ready. Sephiroth had reacted VERY badly to poorly presented half-truths about his origins that last time, as the town of Nibelheim would tell. Hojo had deliberately kept all information of his family and origins from him. In that void of unknown and unanswered questions, no doubt that Sephiroth would have, as a desperately lonely child, made up his own stories and illusions about his parents, his family, to help him live through his life in the cold labs.

No doubt at all, for the child himself had told Vincent all about it, back then.

It would be painful for him to learn the truth: that his parents had willingly handed him to a life on the examination table as a piece of cooperate property...that his father was his very tormentor, Hojo. And that the closest thing he had to a friend in the labs, was one who had watched it all unfold, from the very beginning, and yet did nothing. And Vincent...did not want to loose him, this curious, intelligent young man — not again — to madness. He will talk to Sephiroth, eventually. He had to. The young man had all but pleaded for Vincent to give him the answers he so desperately sought that night. And he had a right to know.

But not yet. Vincent needed time, time to sort out his own confused thoughts and emotions, before he could trust himself with Sephiroth's sanity.

 _Time is what we do not have, Host._ Chaos growled lowly, deep in their shared mindscape.

_What do you mean?_

_We...don't know._

_We feel it._

_Something is wrong._

_Wrong with the Silver Fledgeling._

_But we can't see._

Vincent mentally sighed in frustration. That was how most of his questions to his demons about this world were answered. The demons were masses of instinct and gut feelings — even Chaos, the most powerful and intelligent of them. Rarely could they explain what they were sensing in a coherent way, in a way beyond " _we feel it_ " or " _because it IS_ ".

Vincent chanced a glance at Sephiroth. The former general was currently engaged in conversation with Nami, and wasn't looking his way. Quietly, as unnoticeably as possible, Vincent willed himself to relax, to give up a bit of his control and allow his demons to come a bit to the surface. They had done this many times now, out of necessity, since landing in Hell. That was how Vincent had been able to read the demon script, how he could see the energy signatures of the demons and other beings around him. It was all through his demons' eyes, for his own human eyes, enhanced as they were, were quite useless in that regard. The demons recovered their memories faster too, the more and the longer they spend taking in the sights and sounds and the feel of the place.

Through his demons' eyes, the world shifts a little. Brighter, somehow, though not uniformly so. The air around them too, once clear, now shimmered slightly in subtly varying shades of blue. Swirls of energy now flitted about the bodies of Nami and Sephiroth, and even himself too.

Vincent focused his attention on Sephiroth, as discreetly as possible. The former general's aura was the same as always. Pale flickers of silver and green floated about him very much like shadows of feathers falling from invisible wings, layered with dark swirls that very much resembled the signature of demons. It was no wonder that the denizens of Hell would see him as a "hybrid". As Vincent and his demons focus more and more though, something touched on their awareness, something so faint, that they couldn't tell what it was, only that it was _there_.

Galian let out a low growl in their shared mind.

Sephiroth seemed to have sensed Vincent studying him, however, for his shoulders subtly tensed and he began to turn in the ex-Turk's direction. Vincent quickly took full control again and turned away from Sephiroth's questioning gaze. Fortunately this time, as all the times before, the former general chose not to confront the ex-Turk, and simply went back to his conversation with Nami.

 _What was that? That...something._ Vincent whispered into his mind

_We don't know._

_We can't see enough._

_Not like this._

_Let us see, more._

_...I..._

_...I can't..._

It was hard, letting go as much as he was doing already. Old, instinctive fear of loosing control, of being taken over, being lost, gnawed at him every time he and his demons did this. And the demons feared being overwhelmed and lost as much as their human host did. It took thirty years for them to come to a sort of understanding, a semblance of peace in the cramped space of Vincent's mind. Took the necessity of survival in Hell for them to grudgingly trust each other enough to let each other see a little through each other's eyes. It was taxing too, to hold multiple minds at the same time in the forefront of one's consciousness. Much easier to "rotate" who was fully aware and who was not, like they've been doing during Vincent's limit breaks. The lesser demons could not sense things as well as Chaos however, nor did they have the capacity to explain what they had sensed. But Vincent was not ready to reveal his most powerful demon to his captors just yet. So for now, the ex-Turk and his demons could only wait and puzzle, with only Chaos's cryptic warning echoing softly through their minds.

_He does not have much time..._


	18. Time

The Head Librarian of Central Library was a tall woman with raven black hair and ice-blue eyes who carried herself with an air of quiet sophistication. She sat on the data and records floor, surrounded by a large round desk with rows upon rows of computer screens floating in the air above it, and too many keyboards for one person to ever logically need. Nami warmly greeted her and introduced her as 'Robin'. The librarian then smiled pleasantly at the two men and smoothly went over the procedures for opening up new accounts with them as if her sovereign sends slaves to her asking her for library accounts every day.

Vincent's eyes had narrowed slightly at Robin's slender, long-fingered hands as they danced gracefully over the keyboards. But when the librarian noticed his stare, she simply gave him an amicable smile and handed him his library card. And Vincent too, only thanked her politely and made no further comments.

On the card, a small, neon-green arrow-shaped sticky note pointed to the line where he was supposed to sign.

Along with allowing them to take out books from the library, the cards also acted as keys to the library's elevators and doors. And of course, Vincent and Sephiroth's cards only allowed them access to a few select areas of the library. The most useful areas such as the 6th floor were only accessible to them after they fulfilled their end of the bargain with the Archdaemon in the 'Duel & Screw's.

Although the Head Librarian and the Circle Treasurer weren't the only ones to have such easy attitudes around their Archdaemon's first slaves, the attitude with which most people around the Circle greeted the two men, was one of excitement. In fact, the staff of the Archdaemon's palace seemed to see them as fascinating curiosities, exciting new additions, and a chance to stretch out their wings in their respective professions — some of them quite literally.

Tah'rh had taken the two men around the palace to meet them. First was the housekeeping staff. They were in charge of all household cleaning chores, as well as other things like minor repairs, catering and gardening.

"Very good, madam, we shall be sure to keep their lodgings spotless at all times." said the head of the housekeeping staff — a dignified, monotoned butler who, no matter how one looked at him, was a 4-foot-tall crow wearing a butler suit. Behind him, a flock...er...group of 4-foot-tall pigeons dressed in French maid outfits coo'ed enthusiastically, and immediately set to work, moving as a team as efficiently as cogs in a well-oiled machine, their wings every bit as dexterous as hands and fingers.

"Albert Alain Alkan," Tah'rh introduced the crow to her slaves, "he's head of the housekeeping staff. If you ever get a clogged toilet, or someone gets stuck in a tree or something, go talk to him or one of the maids. Ah, maids, stop your work for a minute, let me introduce you to the humans."

The Archdaemon then proceeded to introduce Vincent and Sephiroth to each identical-looking pigeon-maid by name.

Sephiroth wondered if he and Vincent were expected to remember and identify all of them, if it would be rude as slaves to not to, but then he noticed that the ex-Turk seemed to be having a glaring contest with the crow-butler.

Tah'rh glanced over her shoulder at the two tense men...or...tense man and tense 4-foot-tall crow... "Yes Vincent, Albert is also an assassin. It's just a minor detail, he's targeting me, not you. Don't worry about it."

...

Second was the kitchen staff. They were responsible for supplying the Archdaemon's and her staff's meals, as well as whatever food and drink Tah'rh required when she entertained guests such as other demon lords and Archdaemons. It was headed by two blond young men, Fai and Sanji. Fai was very soft spoken and had the manners and grace worthy of a prince. Sanji was also rather dignified and well-mannered, for the most part, but there were also many times when he reminded Vincent very much of one Cid Highwind. The tall, skinny blond chef, just like the grizzled airship captain, seemed to always have a cigarette between his lips, even when he was shouting. That is, unless Fai had casually reached over and plucked the cigarette away, and stuffed a red lollipop into the blond chef's protesting mouth, chiding him on smoking in the kitchen.

Also like Cid, Sanji could swear like a sailor, and he apparently had something of an explosive temper...but only when he's with other men. When he's with women...or any female of any species...or...Vincent wasn't sure if "male" and "female" really applied to a lot of the population here. But Sanji didn't seem to mind the technicalities.

Right before Vincent and Sephiroth stepped foot in the palace kitchens for the first time, Tah'rh had paused at the elaborate filigree double doors, and turned to her two slaves with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Watch this." she said, then gold and red swirls enveloped her body, and she transformed into a "he".

Appearance-wise, her male form didn't look that different from her female one. A little wider at the shoulders, a little narrower at the hips. But she...he was otherwise, very much recognizable as the same Archdaemon.

She...he then dramatically pushed the double doors of the kitchen open, and shouted that she...he was hungry, and wanted to go rummage through the fridge.

Sanji immediately appeared and blocked her...his path, standing protectively in front of a huge metal door that was all but entirely covered with chains and bolts.

"HELL NO! You shitty brat of an Archdaemon!" the blond chef growled, "Not with what you #&%#% did the last time you..."

Gold and red swirls enveloped the Archdaemon again, and right in front of Sanji, Tah'rh transformed back to her female form.

Sanji's defensive stance immediately slackened, and his scowl instantly turned into a smitten smile.

"Of course~ Miss Tah'rh~~ <3 What would you like to have~~?<3<3" the suddenly love-struck blond chef sing-songed as he undid the chains and bolts on the metal door exactly as Tah'rh requested, and helped her take out all the food items that she named.

Fai sighed as he watched them, then turned to Vincent and Sephiroth and handed them each a small plate of what looked like little round chocolate cakes.

"Sorry we don't have much else prepared. Tah'rh didn't tell us you were coming until we were already busy with lunch preparations. I learned this recipe from a human friend of mine, it should be safe for you to eat. Try it, and tell me if you like the taste."

Vincent and Sephiroth politely took the dainty spoons that were offered to them, and cut into their cakes. A river of molten chocolate flowed out from the cut, the two men each scooped up a piece of cake along with a spoonful of the molten chocolate, brought it to their mouths, and then froze.

"Well?" asked Fai, "Is it bad? We haven't had any humans in the Circle for a very long time. I'm afraid our knowledge and skills are a bit lacking when it comes to food for humans."

"No," Vincent shook his head, "this is delicious!"

Since Vincent had answered Fai, Sephiroth simply left all the talking to the ex-Turk while he himself cut into his cake again and savoured each and every bite.

Seeing that, Fai smiled a gentle, happy smile, "Is that so? I'm glad. Give us a few days to get ourselves acquainted with human foods, and then you'll both be welcome to make requests to the kitchen any time, as long as we're not busy with a banquet. Well, even then we might still be able to get you a little _something_."

Vincent frowned in puzzlement, "I...was given the impression that we were expected to take care of our meals ourselves." Their little suite came with a fully equipped kitchen, and Fah'yn _had_ brought them a small mountain of food ingredients. Although now that Vincent thought about it, that small mountain of food _would_ make much more sense if most of it were meant to be stored and used here in the palace kitchens.

"Well, most of the suites in the palace have their own kitchens, and everybody can choose whether to cook for themselves or request meals to be made for them here," explained Fai, "Tah'rh hasn't said anything otherwise for the two of you, so I assume that the same goes for you. There's no need to be shy. Tah'rh prefers to take care of her own meals when she's not busy, and there's so few staff here in the palace. What did she say it was? ..."Economically viable"...I think it was. It'll be nice to have more people to cook for again. Sanji took out some books from the library about human diet and nutrition as soon as he heard. He's been studying them all night last night. Don't let his loudmouth and foul manners fool you, he's really a big softie on the inside."

"What was that you overgrown pheasant!" Sanji momentarily dropped out of his smitten state to scowl at the blond patissier. He was quickly distracted again though, when Tah'rh called to him for yet another thing that she wanted him to do.

Fai looked back at the growing mess and chaos behind him and the enthusiastically participating, love-struck Sanji, and sighed again, "And if you two are able to transform into something that looks enough like a woman, then he'll just turn into a big pile of pudding..."

The blond patissier made a small, quick, drawing gesture with his hand, and a stream of ice suddenly sprang towards Sanji, stopping him in his tracks by encasing him in a block of ice. And with that, the chaos in the kitchen that was stirred up by the Archdaemon and her love-struck chef sidekick was instantly stilled.

"...Frozen pudding." smiled Fai.

...

Last was the dressing room staff. They were in charge of designing and custom-making formal-wear for the Archdaemon and her household, as well as anything else custom-made that they might need. They were also responsible for any repairs and alterations that may need to be done on the Archdaemon's elaborately and delicately decorated formal robes. And of course, they were the ones who were going to make the formal clothes for the Archdaemon's new slaves. The two young men who staffed it were also blonds. Their relationship with the Archdaemon however, was much different from that of the men who headed the kitchens. In fact, it may be possible that she had left the dressing room visit to the last minute, on purpose.

Like with the kitchens, Tah'rh had paused in front of the dressing room's simple grey doors. But this time, when she turned to her slaves, her expression was solemn, and a bit troubled as she studied them.

"You'll be alright...yeah...you'll be alright." she muttered, mostly to herself.

"Just remember to not let them get to you. Don't show any weakness, those two can sniff it out like a pair of jackals." and with that warning, she pushed open the door.

The two blond men inside immediately looked up from their work, and greeted the Archdaemon with a smile.

"Good afternoon, Miss Tah'rh"

"Ya-ho~ Tah'rh"

The Archdaemon nodded to each of them, "Afternoon, Virus, Trip."

Vincent blinked. Both of these men had short blond hair, ice-blue eyes and pale complexions. They looked and moved similar enough to each other to be twins. And yet the ex-Turk had never seen adult twins who deliberately dressed like each other the way that those two did: Virus was dressed in a black suit with a plaid tie, and Trip was dressed in a plaid vest with a black tie. They both had the exact same hairstyle, but Virus's bangs were parted on the left, and Trip's were parted on the right. Later on he would find out that these two _always_ dressed like this: if one had a black sweater with a splash of colour on the right shoulder, then the other would have a black sweater with a splash of colour on the left shoulder. If one wore black ankle boots, the other would wear white long boots...etc., etc.

Not even Tah'rh and her twin brother Fah'yn ever went this far, even though one wore mostly white while the other wore mostly black. And the ex-Turk wondered if the fact that Virus wore glasses while Trip did not, was done on purpose too. Eyewear didn't seem to be very common in Hell.

As Vincent and Sephiroth stepped past the threshold of the door, they saw that there were two more occupants in the room — a large, muscular black snake was coiled around the plush chair behind the standing Virus, and a black lion with a thick black mane was dozing by the feet of the sitting Trip.

"You two are looking like twins, as always." remarked Tah'rh as she approached them.

"We're not twins"

"We aren't twins"

The two blonds said in unison, and Tah'rh chuckled.

"How are you today, Miss Tah'rh? Are those two the new slaves of yours that everyone's been talking about?" asked Virus.

"What a pair of beauties! As expected of our Archdaemon!" whistled Trip.

"Yes, just like our Archdaemon, to have such impeccable taste." agreed Virus.

"Pfft!" Tah'rh rolled her eyes, unimpressed, "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"But it's our sincere thoughts, Miss Tah'rh." smiled Virus.

"Because we are your number one fans." grinned Trip.

Vincent studied the not-twins. Though they were speaking passionate words, there were no passion in their tones nor expressions. Though they were smiling, no warmth reached their icy blue eyes. They did not speak in a monotone, but their voices always remained light and cool, as if spoken from a place where nothing ever changed.

There was something very...off...about these men.

"Hey, what are you two standing there for?" Trip called to Vincent and Sephiroth, who had remained by the door, "Come on in!"

"We don't bite." added Virus as he gave the two men a charming smile.

"You _better_ not." the Archdaemon gave both blonds a hard, pointed look.

Virus raised a brow, as if to say he didn't know what she was talking about.

"I mean it." Tah'rh continued, not buying Virus's "innocence" for a second.

"We would never harm something that is important to you, Miss Tah'rh. We would never do anything to make you unhappy." said Virus.

"Yeah," said Trip, "because we-"

"Because you love me, because you're my number one fans," interrupted Tah'rh, "yeah yeah, you've only said it a million times."

"And we will say it a million times more." smiled Virus.

"Because that's our sincerest feelings." grinned Trip.

Still no change of emotion can be heard in their voices, still the same light, cool tones. And yet Vincent felt that the two of them were telling the truth. Or what was true to _them_. Vincent felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

After some more banter, and more warnings from the Archdaemon to not damage her slaves ("they're humans, you know, delicate. And Tseng will be on my ass if you damage them"), Tah'rh handed the two blonds the finally-agreed-upon designs for Vincent and Sephiroth's formal slave-wear, and then left her slaves alone with the two clothiers to carry on with her other businesses as Archdaemon.

Virus and Trip looked over the designs and discussed it between themselves, then they instructed Vincent and Sephiroth to stand in an open area of the room.

"I'll need to take off your shirt, is that alright?" asked Virus politely.

Sephiroth inclined his head in answer and allowed the bespectacled blond to undress him.

"Hold your arms out to the side...yep, that's good." said Trip as he fussed over Vincent beside him.

Sephiroth followed the clothiers' instructions easily, he had had this done in ShinRa many times before. As Virus and Trip put him and Vincent in position however, Sephiroth noticed that the black snake had uncoiled itself from the chair, and has now slithered closer.

"This is Hersha," Virus noticed Sephiroth's gaze and smiled as he patted the large snake affectionately on the head, "he's going to help me take your measurements. Do you have a fear of snakes? We don't have to use him, if you don't want to."

"Proceed as you will." answered Sephiroth evenly, and the black snake slithered forward on an unseen signal from Virus, and climbed up the former general's body as if he were a tree.

Both the snake and Virus were gentle as they touched him and prodded him and took his measurements, but Sephiroth kept having a nagging feeling that something was not quite right. Something about the two clothiers reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite say _what_. His eyes darted over to Vincent. Although the man looked calm and stoic as ever, Sephiroth had seen enough Turks and enough of Vincent to see that underneath that cool exterior, the man was on high alert.

"Don't show any weakness." The Archdaemon had said. Sephiroth put on his cool, uncaring mask with practiced ease, and let the clothiers do what they will around him. But he never stopped watching them, never stopped scanning for the source of whatever was bothering him, whatever was bothering Vincent.

In the end the Virus and Trip never did anything out of the ordinary, they were both professional and mindful in everything they did.

Sephiroth did notice that their ice-blue eyes where constantly watching him and Vincent, and seemed to take note of every little reaction that he and Vincent had. But that could just be because they were the famous new slaves of the maverick Archdaemon. When he looked over at Vincent, however, he decided to trust the Turk's judgement, and his own instincts. They were slaves in a land of demons after all, it was safer to be cautious.

...

When they were not being confined in the Archdaemon's palace, or watched in the Central Library, Vincent and Sephiroth frequented the Circle Stadium, though not always for 'performing' in the 'Duel & Screw's. Between the 'Duel & Screw' shows and the Archdaemon shirking her responsibility and dodging Tseng's classes on etiquette and proper behaviour for Archdaemons and their slaves in formal settings, Tah'rh kept Sephiroth and Vincent busy, or in other (her) words: "economically viable", by sending them to work in the stadium, taking care of the show beasts there under the command and supervision of the Master Beast-Keeper, an elderly demon by the name of Totosai.

Totosai was more than happy to have two more able-bodied men help him with the beasts. Apparently his helpers had a tendency to leave the job only shortly after getting hired to it, and he was frequently short-handed. Sephiroth could easily see why. The old beast-keeper spent most of his time slacking off while he happily and guiltlessly tasked Vincent and Sephiroth with the most dangerous and most back-breaking work.

"I was under the impression that the Archdaemon required her slaves to appear whole and strong before her peers. I hardly think she'd want to find them scorched to charcoal by a pack of overgrown newts." Sephiroth had glowered at the dozing old demon one day, edges of his clothes and hair, and temper, more than a little singed from having to take the Star-back Salamanders on their exercise runs — which basically amounted to him and Vincent costumed as some kind of giant pink chicken running about as bait for the salamanders to chase them around the arena and shoot fire at them.

Totosai had blinked at him for a few seconds before answering unhurriedly, "Ye think so? Methinks Tah'rh's trying teh kill ye." At Sephiroth's questioning stare he elaborated, "Keepin' slaves are expensive, an' keepin' 'em mean Tah'rh'll 'ave ta learn about all the proper pomp n' show Archdaemons are supposed teh do with slaves. An' expensive things an' 'proper' things are teh Tah'rh what water is teh Desert Mao! From what I seen, she's tryin' her hardest teh get rid of ye."

"Must death by fire-amphibians be the only way?" Vincent came up behind Sephiroth, his wild tangle of raven hair seemed even more wild and tangled, and perhaps even a little curled from the heat of the fires, "Might the Archdaemon instead 'accidentally' misplace her slaves or...have them escape?"

Totosai then paused mid-motion from scratching his stomach and stared at the two men unblinkingly with his huge bulbous eyes. Vincent and Sephiroth stared back.

Then the old demon suddenly guffawed and slapped his thigh as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. "As if an Archdaemon would e'er do that! Escaped slaves! There's not much that'll 'it an Archdaemon's reputation as 'ard as that! Just go tell the other Archdaemons teh walk all o'er yeh face, why don't ye! Eh heh heh heh heh! You!" Totosai jabbed a bony finger at Vincent, "With all ye keepin' to yeself all dark-like an' all ye broodin', I never thought ye be one teh 'ave such wicked sense of 'umour!" It took the old demon a long moment before he could finally calm down from his merriment.

"No," said Totosai, his old, hunched body still shaking with chuckles as he wiped tears from his laughter from his eyes, "she's definitely trying teh kill ye."

Sephiroth frowned at the still-laughing Totosai. What the old demon had said was certainly a possibility, considering how Tah'rh had made it quite clear that she had never wanted slaves in the first place. With the way she kept handing them off to other people, such as Nami or Robin or Totosai, and with the fact that she barely sees them outside of her duties as Archdaemon, one would think that Tah'rh would much rather forget that her slaves existed at all. And yet...she had provided them with food and shelter, not to mention advice of caution against Virus and Trip, plus she had quite clearly instructed the clothiers to treat her slaves with care. When Totosai's chuckling had finally calmed to a reasonable degree, Sephiroth expressed his doubts to the old demon.

"The Trash Twins? She told 'em to tone it down wit' ye eh? That's not surprisin'." Totosai tilted his head as he picked at his nose with his little finger, but after a moment, he stopped, flicked a booger away, and scrutinized the two men, suddenly serious, "They've not done anythin' to ye, 'ave they?"

Sephiroth's brows furrowed in puzzlement at the question, "They took our measurements as per their profession. Otherwise no, they have not done anything of note."

"Ah," Totosai nodded sagely, "that means ye can 'andle 'em. Well then, if ye can 'andle Virus an' Trip, then the Star-back Salamanders should be nothin' to ye. They're just fire-breathin' amphibians, is all. Now quit loitering! Back teh work wit' ye!"

...

The beasts that were kept in the stadium complex frequently served as entertainment for the inhabitants of the city and visitors alike. Some of the beasts were trained and performed series of tricks or acrobatic displays. Some of the beasts were simply released into the arena to battle for supremacy.

The stadium also hosted many types of shows, the 'Duel & Screw' show being one of them, music concerts and live theatre being others. There were always some beasts kept in the ready just behind the arena doors though, in case something happens or the performers needed more time to prepare, and the audience needed to be entertained. There was always one person watching over all that goes on in the arena from the tall tower beside the Archdaemon's box seat. He or she would put up a large dome-shaped shield separating the arena and the audience when the beasts were released, and put it down again for less threatening entertainers...such as the Archdaemon's slaves. Sephiroth drove the shovel hard into the ground as he scooped up the dirty straw in the chimera's cage.

"Careful wit' that floor there," Totosai opened one eye from his hammock behind the former general, "them floor-tiles are made wit' high-grade clay imported from 1st Circle; they're much more expensive than ye lot are."

Aside from the shamelessly lazy beast-keeper and the sometimes ridiculous exercises, Sephiroth actually quite enjoyed working with the chimeras, harpies, basilisks, krakens, griffins, and other beasts of all shapes and sizes. Even in his days in SOLDIER, he had enjoyed working with the genetically enhanced guard hounds that ShinRa kept. Animals were much less...puzzling than people. They did not tell jokes that the Silver General didn't understand, and they never misinterpreted his words, for they needed none. Your rank or reputation, or the colour of your hair or eyes, none of it mattered to them. They only waited patiently for Sephiroth to show them whether he was worthy of trust and respect, like they did with any other handler. The beasts of Hell's 7th Circle's stadium were not nearly as tame as ShinRa guard hounds of course, and it took some time to learn their language and quirks. But just like the guard hounds, they were at ease with Sephiroth, and Sephiroth was at ease with them.

Sephiroth noticed that Vincent also enjoyed working with the beasts. Two of his demons, the same two that the gunman had been using in the "Duel & Screws", were especially good with them. He could tell when the gunman stepped back in his mind and let those two out to communicate with the beasts. His crimson eyes would be flecked with gold and his posture would change subtly. The purple fire-breathing beast would lean slightly forward as if compensating for the weight of a tail, and the hulking humanoid one would move with a bounce in his step, with more exaggerated swaying in the shoulders. If Sephiroth remembered correctly from what he had seen of the ex-Turk and his AVALANCHE comrades in the past, Vincent should have two more demons, though the ex-Turk had yet to use them in the Duel & Screws. They came out rarely, subtly, but they too each had distinct personalities and characteristics that Sephiroth was careful to observe and learn.

The beasts too liked Vincent and his demons very much. ...Sometimes perhaps a bit too much. Sephiroth frowned at a group of harpies who had sidled up to the ex-Turk as he refilled their food and water trays and expressed their gratitude a bit _too_ affectionately. But the ex-Turk gently but firmly pushed away a wingtip that had strayed too far down his lower back and clicked his tongue in gentle reprimand at a sneaking talon, and the harpies fell back respectfully.

Sephiroth hadn't even realized that he was staring, but then Vincent looked back at him, and once again those red eyes flinched away, and the ex-Turk went on working, pretending that nothing happened.

Sephiroth's jaw tightened. This was what amounted to the entirety of their interactions, outside of what they had to do in the Duel & Screws. The ex-Turk would do his best to ignore the former general, but Sephiroth could feel those red eyes watching him, always. Yet whenever Sephiroth looked back at them, they would dart away. In fact, Vincent had never once properly looked at Sephiroth nor had any eye contact with him, unless he absolutely had to.

The gunman had also made himself as scarce as possible during what little free time they had in their sleeping quarters. The guest suite that the Archdaemon and her brother gave them had only one bedroom and only one bed, though the bed itself was large enough to comfortably accommodate two people, and maybe more. There was a couch in the living room, and though it was sturdy and soft, it was much too short for 6-foot-tall men like Vincent and Sephiroth to sleep on comfortably. Sephiroth wondered if it was normal for demon adults to share beds, or if that was just expected of slaves. None of the demons, not even the ever-observant and thoughtful Fah'yn, seemed to take any note of the single piece of furniture capable of being slept on.

Even so, Valentine didn't need to disappear into the thick forests that surrounded their little suite all night, every night. The demons had left them a mountain of bedding, more than enough to make sleeping on the floors a completely viable option. And Sephiroth had never made any move to commandeer their only bed. In fact the former general wouldn't have minded sleeping out in the forest himself. He had had to make do with much less inviting sleeping arrangements before. The weather so far had been consistently warm, and so far since their arrival in Hell, they hadn't seen any rainfall. Sephiroth wasn't even sure if it ever rains in Hell. But if it does, he hoped that it'll really be fire and brimstones as told in stories. Maybe that'll finally knock some sense into that ex-Turk's thick, stubborn skull.

Sephiroth bit back a sigh and turned back to his current task: brushing the luxurious white fur of the nekomata. This was the first time he'd seen such a creature — much like most of the other creatures kept here. It looked like a white cat with blood red eyes, black markings, and two fluffy tails, but it was much larger than a cat, or even a tiger. Standing on all fours as it was now, Sephiroth was only just tall enough to properly brush out the fur on its back without having to stand on a stool.

It turned its head and gave its silver caretaker a gentle nuzzle, as if sensing Sephiroth's troubled thoughts. Sephiroth patted the large head reassuringly in answer.

It wasn't new, people have always acted with some degree of unease around him, if not open hostility. And after the whole thing with Jenova and Meteor, his very presence inspires panic and terror in the populace of Gaia. Vincent had good reasons to see Sephiroth as a threat, he couldn't deny that. Just earlier today, on another trip with Nami, the subject of the Cetra's extinction, and the fate of the girl that was the last Cetra, inevitably came up.

So far, Vincent had only told of the Cetra as what they were and what they did, what happened during the Calamity, and that they were now extinct. He had not yet mentioned the discovery of Jenova or any of the more recent events involving her and the last Cetra.

He had also excluded details in his telling such Sephiroth's role in the murder of the last Cetra.

In truth, it wasn't Sephiroth who had ran Masamune through the unarmed body of the Cetra girl. It was Jenova, who had shaped her headless body in the image of Sephiroth. Or perhaps it was Sephiroth's will to have Jenova shape her body to his image, to achieve the desired reaction from the planet's populace, and from Cloud. He couldn't tell anymore, so entwined he and Jenova were at the time.

He didn't deny responsibility for the Cetra girl's death, however. If he had truly not wanted to kill the girl, he could have done...something. If not overcoming Jenova's will, then at least slow her down. Cloud was right there, if Sephiroth had hesitated but for a moment, then perhaps the blond swordsman could have repelled him and saved his friend.

He hadn't wanted to kill Zack, even though Jenova had insisted that the First-class SOLDIER was a threat and a traitor, just like all the other humans. And he didn't kill Zack, not even when Zack was forced to attack him.

Zack had fallen into the hands of Hojo as a direct result of the Nibelheim incident, however. Sephiroth knew what was done to young man, through the Jenova cells that Hojo had injected himself and his test subjects with. And he knew about Zack's eventual end at the hands of Shinra.

He had felt Zack's presence in the Lifestream. The SOLDIER First had somehow avoided dissipating into the Lifestream, as all other souls should, and had. Perhaps it was the Jenova cells, even though they had not affected Zack's body and mind in life, perhaps their true effects lingered in death. A lot of the other people injected with Jenova cells also had trouble going back to the Lifestream after they died. Even now they remained, suspended in the green glow as stagnant blotches, unable to re-join the cycle of life. Sephiroth had seen them when he too floated with the ever-moving streams. He had also felt the girl's presence. She too had remained herself in the Lifestream, though she had no Jenova in her. Perhaps it was due to her Cetra heritage.

Aerith, her name was. The one whom Zack had talked about non-stop, his eyes lit with a happiness that Sephiroth had not seen since Angeal defected. He had not drawn the connection between Zack's "angel flower girl" and the girl in pink kneeling in the temple, had not remembered, until Vincent mentioned her name in their conversations with Nami.

If she was an Ancient, then her mother...would be Ifalna. Vincent had not yet mentioned anything relating to Aerith, her family or origins, other than the fact that she was the last Cetra. But Sephiroth knew. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. Just like he knew Ifalna was 'different' as soon as he saw her in the lab. She was different from everybody else, just like Sephiroth was. And she had treated the silver-haired boy with kindness and warmth. Sephiroth often wondered if Ifalna was what a mother would feel like. And when she grew closer to Professor Gast — the only other person in the labs who had ever treated Sephiroth with kindness — Sephiroth had wondered if that was what a family felt like. He had even, childishly, fantasized that one day, Professor Gast and Ifalna would take him away out of the labs, and they would all live together outside, doing whatever everybody else did outside of the labs.

Then one day, Gast and Ifalna did leave the labs, but they did not take Sephiroth with them.

Was it jealousy that had stopped Sephiroth from questioning Jenova when she insisted that the frail-looking girl was a threat that needed to be eliminated? Jealousy that the Cetra girl had had a family that Sephiroth could only wish for? Had Gast and Ifalna taken Sephiroth with them when they escaped, would he and Aerith have become friends? Siblings?

He would never know. Both Aerith and Zack had ventured close to him, once or twice, in the Lifestream. But both of them had kept their distance, and soon disappeared back into the endless green. Were they afraid of Jenova, who was always there with him? Or were they afraid of _him_?

Sephiroth looked back up at Vincent, who was now bringing feed to the small herd of sheep with golden fleece, his back turned, carefully distanced from the former general.

The nekomata gave a soft chirp as she gently nudged the brooding general.

Sephiroth let out a sigh and scratched behind the giant cat's ears, and the nekomata purred.

This wasn't new. He reminded himself. People have always kept their distance from him for one reason or another. And he understood the ex-Turk's reasons. The Turks had always been fiercely protective of each other, AVALANCHE had had a camaraderie between its members that was obvious even to his insane self, and SOLDIER was no less than either of them. Even when they couldn't exactly be called "friends", they've fought wars beside each other, protected each other, and Sephiroth had always valued his comrades, very much. The death of a comrade affected everyone deeply, whether they be Turk, AVALANCHE, or SOLDIER. And Sephiroth was the killer of one of Vincent's comrades.

The ex-Turk will likely never forgive him. The entire planet will never forgive him for the things he had done, for that matter. He knew that. That was fine. He wasn't sure if he wanted forgiveness, if he even cared. But this distance from the ex-Turk was different. It wasn't new, and yet it was affecting Sephiroth more than he wanted to admit.

But it didn't matter. Sephiroth's hands stilled on the nekomata's soft white fur. He was running out of time, and Vincent was the best and probably the only chance he has of finding the answers he's been looking for all his life. He wanted to talk to him, he _needed_ to talk to him. Somehow.

The ex-general took a deep breath.

"Vincent..."

The ex-Turk's slender back subtly stiffened, but he did not turn towards Sephiroth.

Sephiroth bit his lower lip, but opened his mouth again and continued.

"The girl... ...Aerith..."

Vincent's movements stilled.

"...I'm...sorry..."

The apology rang hollow, even to Sephiroth's own ears.

Vincent paused for a long moment, but then he continued in his tasks as if nothing had happened, never turning to face the ex-general.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and leaned his forehead into the warmth of the nekomata's fur. He should have known. Outside of battle commands, he had always been useless with words. Zack, Angeal, Genesis, they were all better with it. When they were in SOLDIER, they've always been quick to salvage the situation whenever Sephiroth was once again misunderstood. But...even if they were here, even if he were a master of words, neither them nor words can ever undo what had been done.

A soft whisper brushed past him, so soft that he almost missed it. But the nekomata's reaction was stronger. She jerked slightly, and let out a quiet growl.

Sephiroth lifted his head and looked at the usually calm and friendly beast. Her blood red eyes were focused on him, her ears turned backwards defensively, and she was sniffing at him as if trying to find the source of her alarm on him. She didn't stay that way for long though, for the nekomata soon relaxed, and then started licking the former general with her rough, feline tongue.

Sephiroth tangled his fingers in the nekomata's thick mane and allowed the giant cat to try to comfort him, willing his heart rate and breathing to calm, and willing the dread that had pooled in his stomach to uncoil.

He doesn't have much time.

 

* * *

**Additional Disclaimers:** Robin and Sanji of the anime and manga series "One Piece" belong to Eiichiro Oda; Totosai and Kirara of the anime and manga series "Inuyasha" belong to Rumiko Takahashi; Fai of the anime and manga series "Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle" belong to CLAMP; Virus and Trip of the visual novel game "Dramatical Murder" belong to Nitro+CHiRAL; Albert Alain Alkan from the visual novel game "Hatoful Boyfriend: Holiday Star" belong to Hato Moa. I own none of them and am only borrowing them for a bit of profit-less fun. And yes, I've played the pigeon-dating game xD and it's actually one of the best of the visual novel genre I've played. Highly recommended ;) Also, was anybody else on Sakuya's household staff ever mentioned anywhere? besides Albert and the Gull Guards? I don't remember. Well, I'd imagine that he'd have pigeon maids in French maid outfits.

 **Additional Warnings:** Do NOT google image search Dramatical Murder or anything related to it at school or at work or in public. Beware NSFW content ^^;


	19. Tutelage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Sex and sex-related stuff. Lots of sex and sex-related stuff.

A low moan pushed past Vincent's lips as Sephiroth sank his teeth at just the right pressure into a particular spot on his shoulder, and the audience cheered wildly in vicarious victory. As Sephiroth had long since discovered on the slave ship with Fenris's antics, demons most undoubtedly had VERY liberal views on the matters of sex. Sephiroth had expected jeers, derogatory comments, obscene jokes from the demon spectators looking down at the Archdaemon's slaves from their high seats, but none ever came. In fact, the whole thing was very...participatory. The spectators were not above rolling around on the rows of seats with one another along with the two men down in the arena. Sometimes _they_ were making more of a show than the ones that they had come to watch.

It was not long, not long at _all_ , before they noticed Sephiroth's inexperience, his quest and efforts to coax a response from the stubbornly silent ex-Turk; and it was not long before they noted how rare and precious every sound, every reaction were from Vincent...and they _sympathized_. They shouted out encouragements and cheered whenever Sephiroth succeeded in drawing forth a moan, a gasp, or some other kind of indication of pleasure from the quiet ex-Turk. And they shouted out tips and advice from their seats to the young silver-haired man.

"Try giving his ears a few good licks!" shouted a diminutive humanoid creature with huge furry ears on one of the front rows.

"Show him how brightly your eyes glow!" chided a matronly insectoid spectator with eight large glowing eyes, "How can he know what a virile mate you are if you don't show him your eyes?"

Sephiroth couldn't understand the way the audience was reacting to him. They were treating him like...like...how Angeal had treated promising new cadets, the best way he could describe it. They all seemed to mean well with their advising, though not all of the advices were physically possible with the number of limbs and joints and body parts he and Vincent actually had.

The people who frequented the Archdaemon's palace, the councillors and guards and palace staff, they too often gave out advice when they happen upon the young general when Vincent was not around.

Sephiroth didn't mind. His own knowledge of human sexuality was very limited. And the only time when he and Vincent had any significant amount of interactions with each other, the only time when he could really try to communicate with the stubbornly evasive ex-Turk, was during the Duel & Screw's. He was never good with words and had always preferred to prove himself through action. And so he welcomed any knowledge on the subject that might be helpful.

"Lay your coat under him Sephiroth," said a demon version of Cissnei, Second-in-Command of the Archdaemon's Guards, "the ground is hard and gritty, and not very pleasant to lie on."

...

Vincent blinked and stared at Sephiroth as the master swordsman carefully smoothed his coat over the floor of the arena and then looked back at the ex-Turk expectantly. The gesture was very much unexpected, and if Vincent didn't find the word so ill-fitting for the Silver General, he could almost say it was very...sweet. He hadn't really minded the bare ground before, he had had to make do with worse in his younger days. But, Vincent did appreciate having something soft and sturdy between his naked skin and the rough sandy ground.

Sharp mako-green eyes carefully watched the ex-Turk. The minute softening in the gunman's fine features and the flicker of appreciation in those crimson eyes as they roamed over the coat were not missed. And Vincent soon found the former general consistently wearing a long coat for the Duel & Screw shows, and meticulously arranging it on the ground every time before they begin the "second act".

...

"Does he look like he's made of glass to you? You friggin' destroy my worm-eaten arena walls with each other's _spines_ every single bloody time, and yet when you lie with him you tiptoe around him as if he will fall apart from the slightest touch!" huffed Tah'rh, "A weak and unsure lover is just as unimpressive as a weak and unsure fighter. Bed him as you would fight him!"

At first Sephiroth had been...reluctant to follow the Archdaemon's advice, but the very next show, the infuriating ex-Turk seemed to have come to the decision to drive Sephiroth mad with his resolute refusal to give _any_ response to his touch. Frustrated, the former general sank his teeth into Vincent's shoulder a bit harder than he meant to, and was surprised by a involuntary shiver of pleasure that rippled through the ex-Turk's lithe frame.

...

"You seem to be a skilled tactician in battle. Yet for the gentler arts, you always approach your targets head-on." said Albert the crow-butler absentmindedly as he straightened and replaced the practice dummies in the forest clearing, "A more indirect approach may be more effective when used with some strategy and planning..."

"He meant: don't always go straight for his balls." Reno cut in as he walked in, flirting with the pigeon-maids who were carrying in more bamboo stakes, "Tease him a little, brush your fingers over his dick as if you're going for it, but go right past it and pay attention to the thighs instead..."

...

Beautiful crimson eyes glared up at him as pale narrow hips involuntarily jerked towards his fingers. But Sephiroth only grinned and pulled his hand back just enough to keep his fingertips lightly on Vincent's flushed skin yet not give enough contact to satisfy.

"Sephiroth..." Vincent growled lowly from between clenched teeth. The audience loudly cheered their approval.

Crows have always had a reputation for being intelligent birds, Sephiroth supposed.

...

"...And #$%&#$ his &#%*&%...and when he &$#%, you #&#$%*$ &! #^%$$#&^*%..." the red-headed Captain of the Archdaemon's Guards kept going enthusiastically, oblivious...or willfully oblivious...to the increasingly heavy air around the members of his audience.

Sephiroth knew better than to take every advice given.

...

Advice was not the only thing given, however. Some in the Archdaemon's palace attempted to 'help' in other ways.

Sephiroth's elegant brows furrowed as he looked down at the new recipe that Fai had invited them to come to the kitchens and try.

The blond patissier was usually highly skilled in producing delicious new desserts, even with new ingredients such as the ones that they had to import for the human slaves. But this new creation of his was...strange.

It looked like a fruit salad for the most part, drizzled generously with chocolate sauce. But there was an oyster in the middle for some reason, and the entire thing smelled very strongly of spices.

Puzzled, yet willing to give Fai the benefit of the doubt, Sephiroth tentatively scooped up a spoonful and put it into his mouth.

"Well?" asked Fai, leaning over the kitchen counter, "How does it taste?"

"It's...very strong..." Sephiroth answered at length.

Vincent looked like he had no intention of trying the new 'dessert'. He had taken one look at it and simply sat there with his crimson eyes narrowed at the blond patissier.

"Did you just put everything in this book in there?" asked Sanji as he walked by, carrying a stack of pots and pans in one hand, and a slim book with bright-green stickers bookmarking its pages in the other.

"It looks like most of these foods are just generally good for the human body," the blond chef frowned at a bookmarked page, "good for blood-flow...good for energy...I'd have expected something that would induce sex-drive specifically in a book titled 'Aphrodisiac Foods for Huma-"

Before Sanji could finish, he was suddenly encased in a block of ice.

"Aha, it didn't taste very good, did it? No matter, I will get you something better next time." Fai smiled widely, retrieved the desserts, and made a tactical retreat.

...

"This is one of Tseng and Tah'rh's designs?" Sephiroth frowned in puzzlement at the garments that Virus and Trip were putting on him and Vincent.

Formal wear for an Archdaemon's slaves served two primary purposes: the first was to show that no weapons are concealed, to show that the Archdaemon is hospitable and bear no ill will to his or her guests; and the second was to show off the Archdaemon's wealth. So for the first purpose, formal slave-wear usually use very little fabrics and gave minimal coverage for the slaves' body. And for the second purpose, what little fabric there existed, were usually heavily decorated with jewels and decorations, which Tah'rh had protested as "gaudy".

This particular outfit that the clothiers dressed them in however, while not exactly generous with fabrics, seemed to serve neither purposes of a slave's formal wear. It left most of the torso bare, as was the norm for formal slave-wear. It covered the neck and shoulders, which was also the norm for formal slave-wear. The arms however, were supposed to be bare, and yet they were completely covered by black leather sleeves. The legs were also completely covered by black leather trousers. There was a piece cut out from the back of the trousers however, which left the buttocks bare, though Sephiroth wondered what purpose that could possibly serve, since everywhere else on the lower body that a weapon could be concealed were still covered. The entire outfit was made of skin-tight leather in a solid black colour though, so perhaps the tight fit and the simple colour scheme will prove the absence of hidden weaponry in place of the usual absence of fabric? But then the simple black leather did nothing to show off the Archdaemon's wealth, and the only decoration there were, were the numerous belts and buckles that were placed all over the outfit.

"Oh, no," chuckled Trip, "of course not."

"This is one of our own designs," explained Virus, "and it's not for formal settings. It's a little pet project, if you will, for our own interest. We're trying to come up with outfits that you can wear for the...ah...'Duel & Screw' shows. This is just a prototype. We'll have to show it to the Archdaemon and get her approval first. The idea behind the design is to make use of the natural beauty of your bodies to show off you fine gentlemen to the audience, while also be functionally useful for the show."

That would explain the thick, sturdy leather covering the arms, legs, shoulders and neck, but why leave the torso and buttocks bare? Were the weak points on a demon's body opposite that of humans? Did they not need protection for the organs in their torsos, or major arteries around the upper thigh and groin area? Were their extremities instead the more vulnerable areas that needed protection? Still puzzled, Sephiroth looked towards Vincent. The black leather did create a stark contrast against the gunman's pale skin, and Sephiroth inferred that the outfit would have the same effect on his own pale skin. That was probably the visual effect that the clothiers were aiming to achieve. It still didn't seem to be "functionally useful" though.

Also puzzling, was the fact that Vincent seemed to be vigorously trying to avoid looking at Sephiroth. Not that Vincent trying to avoid eye contact was anything new, but it seems to be worse today than ever. Sephiroth brought his gaze back to the clothiers fussing about him as he tried to figure out what could possibly be the cause. They haven't yet seen Nami today, and so have not conversed about the Cetra or anything relating to Vincent's comrades at all for the day. In fact nothing of note at all happened, save for this trip to the clothiers.

And Sephiroth could be mistaken, but Vincent's usually deathly pale face seemed to have a little more colour than usual. Perhaps it was just a visual illusion created by the black leather outfit. Whatever Virus and Trip were, Sephiroth did respect the talent and skill that they have shown in their profession, especially when it comes to creating visually effective designs. Not so much for the practical side of designs though, apparently. But then again the clothiers may not be fighters, and that might have contributed to the impracticality of this design. It didn't matter to Sephiroth though, his skill in battle and enhanced healing had meant that he needed little protection from clothing and armour anyway.

"Relax, Vincent, don't be such a stiff!" joked Trip, standing behind Sephiroth and turning the silver-haired man slightly as he helped Virus make adjustments on the trousers, "You like this design, do you."

Vincent's crimson eyes darted over to the grinning clothier and narrowed dangerously, then quickly darted away again to anywhere but Sephiroth's general direction.

Sephiroth inwardly sighed. Maybe he will figure out what goes on in that ex-Turk's skull, some day.

...

Fah'yn of course, did not hesitate to give his own helping hand. Quite a few of the spectators of the 'Duel & Screw's had been sending the two stars of the show various gifts, and not surprisingly, a lot of the gifts were lubricants of various kinds. Fah'yn volunteered to help them sort through those gifts since a lot of them were no doubt going to be made of ingredients foreign to both men and perhaps unsuitable for human use.

"Lubrication is _very_ important, and absolutely necessary at times...for example in your case where your bodies can't produce your own. But even when they aren't necessary, they can still be great fun. There's no reason why you shouldn't experiment." instructed Fah'yn as he tossed a reddish bottle into the fast-growing 'not suitable for human use' pile, then picked up a pale-greenish one from the unsorted pile and furrowed his brows at the list of ingredients written on the bottle. The former general sat cross-legged on the floor with him, looking slightly overwhelmed from the sheer amount and variety of lubricants piled on the floor before them. In the kitchen Vincent was busily preparing his day's meal and studiously ignoring the two.

Vincent, Sephiroth was intrigued to discover, was a skilled cook. The ex-Turk moved about the kitchen with almost as much grace as he did on the battlefield.

Whether it was because of the ex-Turk's usual paranoia, his quiet, unobtrusive nature, or simply a food preference, Vincent never requested his meals from the palace kitchens, and whenever possible, had chosen to prepare everything he ate himself. Of course, that also meant that he had to stay in their suite with Sephiroth for a certain amount of time to cook his food. Sephiroth could almost see the gears grinding in the ex-Turk's head, trying to decide between his misgivings with using the palace kitchens and his misgivings with staying for any length of time alone with Sephiroth. In the end, his misgivings with using the palace kitchens won out.

Of course, he usually went with recipes that took little time to prepare. Whenever the two men had free time in their quarters, Vincent would quickly whip up something from the ingredients that were stored in their suite in a flurry of precise, practiced movements, pack up said food, and then disappear into the surrounding forest until the Archdaemon or her staff had need of him again.

However, when Fah'yn and Tah'rh had supplied their suite with food, they of course didn't choose only foods that were fast to cook. That left ingredients that required longer cooking times sitting there unused and expiring. And Vincent, Sephiroth had also noticed, seemed to be particularly against the idea of wasting food.

Sephiroth would have used those ingredients if he could. After all those hunger-resistance tests and training he had to go through in ShinRa — not to mention the battlefield situations he got into in Wutai, along side platoons of young men in their mako-enhanced prime — he was most certainly NOT one to under-appreciate the importance of food. It was just that he had no idea what to do with them. His skills in cooking weren't completely absent — it was part of SOLDIER survival training to know how to feed oneself when out in the wilderness. And he'd learnt bits and pieces from watching Angeal and Zack, who were probably the two most adequate cooks in the SOLDIER barracks full of young bachelor males, and those two cooked pretty often so that they didn't have to always eat what they called 'gunk' from the cafeteria. And Sephiroth was privately quite proud of the sandwiches he makes — it seemed that his heightened senses gave him an uncanny ability to tell which ingredients and how much of each would go well together (although Genesis was still absolutely hopeless when it came to putting food together, heightened senses or no). But those were his only exposure to cooking. When he was younger in the labs, everything he ate was handed to him on a metal tray, and Hojo watched everything that went into him like a hawk, making notes all the while. When he became general, President Shinra generously provided his favourite poster-boy with a team of private chefs, who were also watched closely by Hojo and who reported everything that went onto the general's plate to the Science Department.

The clinking sound made by the bottles as Fah'yn tossed yet another lubricant into the piles drew the former general's attention back to the Archdaemon's twin. Behind him, he could hear Vincent stirring his pot of delicious-smelling stew. That was the solution that the ex-Turk had settled on: whenever he had the chance, such as now with Fah'yn here and distracting the former general's attention, he would stay to cook the tough, sinewy cuts of meat, various grains and beans, etc. that required longer cooking time, so that they wouldn't go to waste.

"There's a nomadic people who called themselves the 'Phibians' who, during sex, secretes mucus over their entire body, and it feels absolutely incredible!" Fah'yn chatted as he studied a bottle containing a pale-gold liquid, his tail making leisurely circles on the floor as he began to recall a fond memory, "There was a Phibian girl I knew who had leaf-green skin with gorgeous stripes of bright red going up her sides. She was one spirited girl — graceful, agile, one of the best archers I have ever seen. Could shoot the wings off a fly while riding on a Water Hopper," Fah'yn sighed as his dark blue eyes unfocused in memory, "we used to race through the jungle. She was fearless on the back of a Hopper, and was equally fearless and fierce in bed. Even with sis and I double-teaming her, she could still hold her own and sometimes even turn the tables on us, flipping over the both of us with such quickness and skill that before we knew what was happening, she was riding high above us with the moon on her back and landing effortlessly onto an over-hanging tree branch..."

"...In bed?" Sephiroth's brows knitted together in confusion.

Fah'yn blinked at Sephiroth as he snapped out of his reverie and then chuckled good-naturedly, "Oh, no, I was talking about Hopper-racing through the jungle."

"But we did also team up on her in bed, and she beat our asses just as easily there too." added Fah'yn fondly.

Sephiroth's brows furrowed again as he tried to grasp the extremely easy-going attitude the demons had towards sex. It was certainly very different from anything he had experienced in his life in ShinRa. For the Shinra Science Department, after Hojo took over as head of department, the sadistic scientist had always taken great delight in tormenting the lab personnel under him who were stupid enough and unfortunate enough to show special affection towards one another under his watchful eyes. Those working in ShinRa's science department had therefore always kept careful distance from each other lest they bring Hojo's sadistic tendencies upon them. But the same couldn't be said for other departments of ShinRa. It was a well-known 'secret' that President ShinRa had had many mistresses — multiple ones at the same time at times. Scarlet and Heidegger...need not be mentioned. And the Turks, living on the edge as they do, shared their beds with many but gave their hearts to none. Those who had made the mistake of giving their hearts, quickly disappeared from their ranks. The young men of SOLDIER indulged in their magazines and posters and sometimes each other. They would sometimes engage in loud conversations with each other on the subject of sex. But most of it was simply posturing and boasting that the young men did for their peers. Nobody had ever really... _talked_ about sex, not like this anyway.

"She...'was'?" Sephiroth asked. Throughout his speech, Fah'yn had only talked about this...Phibian lover in past tense.

"Oh, right." Fah'yn's tail stopped its moments and laid limp on the floor, "It's been several centuries since she...passed away."

"...I'm...sorry..." said Sephiroth awkwardly, unsure of how to act, of what was expected of him in these kinds of situations. But Fah'yn simply smiled gently and continued in his reverie.

"Her people only live a few centuries longer than humans, you see. We all knew it would happen sooner or later from the start, but when her time came, still..." Fah'yn sighed as he absent-mindedly rolled the small bottle of pale-gold lubricant in his hands, "None of us regret it though. And she had a good life, very long for her people." a small smile touched his lips as he tilted his head down at the bottle in his hands, "The Phibians are quite proud of their full-body lubrication. They say that it was the reason for their free and straight-forward nature. Said that no matter how many stones where thrown into the stream to complicate its path, they can always slip right past the obstacles and swim straight and true as if none were there. And that was how they lived: carefree, wild, outgoing and almost brutally candid — not allowing anything to over-complicate their way and weigh down their steps. After all, time is precious, even to those of us they call 'Undying'. You never know how long...or how short you have with those beside you. Not until it's too late."

In the kitchen, Vincent paused slightly and turned to regard Fah'yn from the corners of his eyes. The young man was sitting as serenely as ever and by all appearances, looked to be simply talking to Sephiroth about a memory. Yet somehow the ex-Turk got the distinct impression that those last words were directed at him.

"Here," Fah'yn pressed the pale-gold lubricant into Sephiroth's hand, "try this one. It's made to imitate the mucus that the Phibians secrete. It's one of the best-selling lubricants in the Axis, and it's proven to be 100% safe and effective for humans."

Sephiroth looked down at the small bottle that Fah'yn handed him. He had many questions pressing on his mind from Fah'yn's story, but after a moment's consideration, he chose to ask the one that had been bothering him in all his interactions with the palace staff.

"Fah'yn...why is it that you and everyone else here are so certain that I'm...myself and Vincent are...'human'?"

"Eh?" Fah'yn blinked, "What do you mean?"

Sephiroth sighed, "Everyone, the Archdaemon, the cooks, the household staff, are researching living and eating habits and specifications for 'humans'. And yet both you and the Archdaemon have admitted that we are...modified... ...Different. Perhaps something close to what you call, 'hybrids'?"

"Oh," Fah'yn tilted his head and considered for a moment, "I guess I haven't really thought about it that way. Come to think of it, we really should have asked you if there's anything different about your needs than other humans. You two ARE heavily modified, probably some of the most extreme cases I've ever seen. I guess we just all assumed...since you're still human at the base."

"Human at the base..." Sephiroth looked back down at his hands, or nothing really in particular, "but how do you know..."

"Sephiroth..." Fah'yn furrowed his brows at the troubled ex-general, "what do you consider yourself to be?"

Sephiroth looked at the Archdaemon's brother sitting across from him. The silver-haired young male's cross-legged pose mirrored the Silver General's, and he was holding yet another bottle of lubricant, in his left hand. Sephiroth looked down at his own hand that now absentmindedly rolled the bottle of pale gold lubricant that Fah'yn had given him. Left-handed. Just like Sephiroth. The Archdaemon's twin had many things superficially similar to Sephiroth, yet that superficial similarity only highlighted their much deeper differences. It was the same as on Gaia, amongst "normal" humans. Sephiroth was similar enough to pass as one of them, but his differences jutted out awkwardly, never truly fitting in the mold — not with "normal" humans, not with "enhanced" humans like the men of SOLDIER, not even with Genesis and Angeal. And here, in Hell, not with Inuyasha, Nero, or Fah'yn either.

"...A monster." answered Sephiroth truthfully.

In the kitchen, Vincent glanced at the silver-haired pair, but continued what he was doing.

To both men's surprise however, at Sephiroth's answer, Fah'yn coughed harshly to divert a laugh, then smiled apologetically at the former general once he gathered himself again: "Sorry sorry! I didn't mean to laugh at you, but that answer, that just proves it, you _are_ human."

"What do you mean?" Sephiroth frowned in incomprehension.

"Well," explained Fah'yn, "in all the different peoples that I've seen in my travels, humans are the quickest to call what they don't understand: 'monsters'."

Sephiroth blinked, but then another one of his questions came to mind.

"Fah'yn..."

"Yes?"

The former general hesitated for a moment, but then continued, "Since our arrival, you have been very generous in extending your kindness to us, and you have my sincere gratitude. However...do you...dislike humans, the same as the Archdaemon?"

Fah'yn's eyes widened, and in the kitchen, Vincent stopped what he was doing and looked up at Sephiroth's bold question.

"Ah...well..." Fah'yn rubbed at his neck awkwardly, his tail also twitched nervously, "Sis is pretty vocal about what she thinks of humans, isn't she? The truth is, she really doesn't hate humans as much as she says she does. She just had some bad experiences with them, when we were younger."

"And what about you then, have you had those same 'experiences'?" the former general pressed on.

"Well, it's like..." Fah'yn started, then stopped and sighed, "You see, we in the Axis are children of the Currents. Not that you from mortal worlds aren't, but we're born more...directly from the Currents. And people from mortal worlds don't _feel_ the ebb and flow of the Currents the way we do. There are mortal races who are sensitive to it, but humans in general, can't hear the Currents at all. And so they...would do things that those of the Axis wouldn't do. Not that the citizens of the Axis are all pure-hearts... But it's like, if they do something...big, they can feel the change in the flow of the Currents as a result of their actions, and they know that there'd be consequences. Humans on the other hand, are completely blind to that. And they're a very ingenious race, often coming up with ideas that no one in the Axis would _ever_ think of. And...though some people of the Axis like to think of themselves as superior and impervious to the going-ons of the mortal world, in truth, everything in existence are connected, by the Currents, and even by us. And the actions of humans in the mortal world does eventually come to affect the Axis as well."

"How?" asked Sephiroth.

"Well, for one thing," answered Fah'yn, "there _are_ individuals here who would like to do...questionable things, but they are afraid of the shifting in the Currents, the consequences. So they go and, try to borrow the hands of humans, to do their dirty work for them, so to speak. It is illegal and the Watchers try to prevent it from happening, but it happens. And when it does, life can get a little bit harder for everyone."

Sephiroth took a moment to consider this, then asked, "Is my existence, then, something that makes everyone's lives harder?"

"Eh?" Fah'yn blinked, caught off-guard, "I didn't mean... Well, I mean...it's possible for demons to have been involved...but humans are also capable of a lot of things by themselves...I mean...I don't know what exactly happened, obviously... But you..."

"So it is then." said Sephiroth matter-of-factly, staring down Fah'yn's fumbling.

Fah'yn paused, then sighed, deflating a little, "You really _are_ a little too smart for your own good, and too darn pessimistic too."

Then suddenly, nimbly, the silver-haired twin brother of an Archdaemon swooped his tail forward and swatted a bottle of lube right at the brooding ex-general's nose. Sephiroth startled at the act, his quick reflexes had his hand up just in time to catch the bottle, and he blinked away his cross-eye to see Fah'yn smiling — a little mischievously — at him.

"Well, if you really want to be a calamity, you can choose to be that." said the smiling Fah'yn, "but if you want to be something else, you can choose something else too. It's up to you."

Sephiroth frowned at the other silver-haired man, not comprehending.

"Now come on, choose," Fah'yn turned to the piles of lubricants on the floor, "we still have so many lubricants to sort out. These ones here," he pointed to one of the piles, "they're flavoured lube. Which flavour do you prefer? Hmm...I don't think we have any that would be familiar to you...but these ones are sweet, and these have a bit of a spicy taste..."

Sephiroth let his gaze follow Fah'yn's, allowing the obvious change of subject. It was clear that Fah'yn was not going to continue on it, and Sephiroth didn't really want to continue either. Plus a question about the lubricants had been on his mind too.

"Why would one flavour lubricants? What purpose would that serve?" asked Sephiroth as he picked up and stared at a brightly-coloured one in puzzlement.

Moments passed and no answer came however, and the former general looked up to find Fah'yn simply staring at him wide-eyed with his jaw hanging open.

"What is it?" frowned Sephiroth.

Fah'yn's gaze drifted to Vincent in the kitchen, then drifted back to Sephiroth.

"Sephiroth, we need to talk." the silver-haired young man finally said.

...

"And you don't need to do the same thing every time," said Nami as she came up from behind Sephiroth with another stack of books in her arms. On Robin's desk was already several stacks of books and videos of 'reference material' that the two women had picked out for Sephiroth. Fah'yn had recommended Sephiroth to Robin and had asked Nami to make this special trip with him to the library while Totosai kept Vincent busy. And the two women took to this task _very_ seriously and enthusiastically, picking out mostly videos and books that had a lot of pictures and diagrams in consideration of Sephiroth's inability to read the demon script.

"As long as it makes for a good show and the audience is entertained, then Tah'rh is happy." continued Nami as she put the stack of books down, "There's really no formula to follow, for the show or for yourselves. Here," she picked out a colourful book from the stack, "this has some very good examples of some of the ways that flavoured lubricants can be used."

...

Anger flashed in crimson eyes when Sephiroth made his request. Fine, thought Sephiroth as he glared back, somewhat disappointed. He _did_ win the right to ask, but if Vincent was so against it, he wasn't going to force the overly-silent, obstinate, impossible, infuriating ex-Turk. Just when Sephiroth opened his mouth to voice his thoughts however, Vincent gracefully sank to his knees; his lips stretched around Sephiroth's girth, his beautiful, glaring orbs of blood red never leaving Sephiroth's surprised mako green. All words instantly died in Sephiroth's throat, and the great general stood, transfixed, until ecstasy rippled through his body and flooded hot and fast into Vincent's moist, suckling mouth. Sephiroth stood there breathlessly for a few moments more, simply watching as Vincent's pink tongue darted across his skin to catch some stray drops of pearly white, before he roughly pushed the ex-Turk to the ground, eager to return the favour of such a wonderful experience, and even more eager to try out everything else he had seen in the books with the overly-silent, obstinate, impossible, infuriating yet irresistibly alluring ex-Turk.

...

"This here is commonly known as the 'doggy' position," said Robin as she manipulated two dolls on her desk to demonstrate the position, "it gives easy access to the genitals and for the one doing the penetrating, it also is one of the easier positions for maneuverability and control over the speed and depth of your thrusts. You can also lean forward to stimulate his upper body and the nipples, and if you alter the position slightly by having his shoulders down on the floor like this, it will allow for deeper penetration. It's a common favourite among many of the Axis."

"It...looks a bit submissive for the one on the bottom..." said Sephiroth as he frowned at the dolls. Despite the fact that he had taunted the ex-Turk for having no pride, he knew it was not true. There was a difference between being yielding and being submissive, and from his experiences in Wutai, he knew well what a mistake it was to confuse the two. In fact, in Wutai, it often happened that when two people want the same thing, the older person, or the person with the higher status, will let the other have it, even though he/she is in a more powerful position and could have taken it from the other easily. There are words in the Wutai language for "yielding" that carried positive connotations of generosity, consideration and care-giving, whereas in the Eastern Continent, all words relating to letting another have something you want had negative connotations of submission and weakness. From Sephiroth's observations working and living with Vincent, he knew that the quiet ex-Turk was by no means weak or submissive, despite his outward compliance. And he was sure that the ex-Turk was at least part Wutaian.

So was that what the gunman was doing in the Duel & Screw shows? Vincent wasn't giving his all in the fights, but neither was Sephiroth. They both wanted to reserve their best for only when they would truly need it. But they were both proud warriors and always gave each other a fair fight, never throwing a match or intentionally handicapping themselves against the other. That was why Sephiroth felt no guilt taking a dominant role with Vincent during the "Screw", for he had won the right from a fair fight, and Vincent had accepted his losses as gracefully as he did everything else. But so far, Sephiroth had won every fight, and somehow, that was gnawing at him.

After every fight, Vincent would simply quietly let Sephiroth move him into whatever position that the former general wanted, and let him do whatever he wanted. Was the gunman simply..."yielding" to the younger man? And knowing that Vincent was a former Turk, it was reasonable to assume that Vincent had done what all the other Turks had done: do things to others, and let others do things to them, that the majority of the populace would never even consider, all for the goal of completing the tasks that ShinRa had given them. The Turks were true hounds of ShinRa.

So Vincent's continuous losses, his easy compliance after his losses, did he simply not care. Was their coupling simply a means to an end for the ex-Turk? Part of the mission to survive and escape their current predicament? Were Sephiroth's efforts to communicate with the stubborn man, during the only time when they have any physical contact with each other, not reaching him?

Lately Sephiroth had been finding himself trying to push the ex-Turk's boundaries, demanding more and more from him, wanting him to fight back, to refuse to do _something_. To respond, instead of making himself a pliant puppet, utterly uncaring of anything that the former general did to him.

But it was never Sephiroth's intention to do harm to or humiliate the ex-Turk. And looking at the dolls, he wondered if he'd be going too far if he made Vincent kneel for him like that.

"How so? If the one on the top is bending over to stimulate its mate...like so, then it's in the exact same pose, no?" Robin asked back, tilting her head at the former general innocently and gesturing to the dolls.

That much is true...considered Sephiroth as he stared at the dolls. The top one was bent over as much as the one on the bottom, with its arms wrapped around the body of its partner, their heads resting against each other. It looked...very intimate. Sephiroth felt his body heat up a little as he imagined doing that with Vincent. Come to think of it, the spirited Inuyasha didn't seem to mind when he and Fenris did this.

"Hmm I think this is enough for today," said Robin as she considered the stacks and stacks of books and videos that were picked out for Sephiroth, "We don't want to overwhelm you with too much at once. This, this...and this series should be good for now. I will make a record of the rest, so that you can come pick them up whenever you're ready to have a look at them."

Sephiroth nodded his thanks. As Robin picked up her dolls to put them back in her drawer however, Sephiroth noticed that their faces looked somewhat more...red than before. Were the dolls...blushing? Come to think of it, they did somewhat resemble the dolls that some ShinRa employees used to try to put a curse on their rivals.

Noticing Sephiroth's gaze, Robin paused, then lifted one of the dolls up, smiling fondly, "My cellmate from 9th Circle was released a bit earlier than I was. She left these dolls for me, for company and to remember her by, she said. She liked them a lot and had played with them all the time while we were imprisoned there. So I figured that they were precious to her, and so have kept them for her to this day."

"Your cellmate from 9th?" Nami blinked, "Are those dolls...enchanted?"

"I've never had the chance to ask her." Robin shrugged, "Maybe I will the next time I see her. Who knows, maybe she had the souls of her enemies forced inside these dolls, forever trapped in these bodies of limp cloth, doomed to live out the rest of eternity as mere playthings completely under the mercy of another's will."

As if to make a point, Robin's deft, graceful fingers made the doll do a little wave and a bow.

"You...you think so?" Nami's brown eye widened as she stared uneasily at the innocently 'waving' doll.

"It's just a guess." Robin shrugged again, "For all I know, they can just be ordinary dolls."

She then casually tossed the doll into her drawer along with its companion. The motion jostled the doll so that its torso was bent in an awkward, unnatural angle. Sephiroth wasn't sure but he thought he might have caught an expression of distress on the doll's face before the drawer was slid closed.

The former general averted his eyes from the drawer.

...

A low growl reverberated through Vincent's mind as Sephiroth pulled his hips high in the air into what is now apparently the silver general's favourite sex position. Inside his mind, his demons were livid at being defeated once again. Especially Chaos. Apparently for demons, their courtship rituals involve both parties taking turns putting on displays of strength for each other. And so far, Sephiroth's "display of strength" has more than done enough to impress the demons, and now they are insisting that they reciprocate with a display of strength of their own. Needless to say, Vincent's reluctance to allow his two most powerful demons to manifest and battle Sephiroth, and his continuous losses are making the demons VERY unhappy.

_Host! What in the Everlasting Winds is WRONG with you?_

_The Silver Fledgling goads us!_

_He knows we can fight him harder!_

_He's trying everything he can to make us do it!_

_If you don't hurry up and take him, he will think of us as weak and unworthy mates!_

_Or think that WE do not think of HIM as a worthy mate to fight for!_

They were getting more and more agitated, louder and louder each time, making it VERY hard for the ex-Turk to focus on anything else. Vincent mentally sighed against all the clamour and tried to tell his demons — again — that the element of surprise is the only card they have against the powerful Archdaemon. If they want to escape from their enslavement, then they need choose when to use it very carefully.

_Excuses! We can make the Silver Fledgeling our bonded mate, and then together we can challenge the Sun-treader for our freedom!_

Vincent wondered where Chaos's confidence came from. They knew so precious little about their enemy, they barely even knew their only possible ally. They didn't know if Sephiroth would even want to become their "bonded mate", or would help them fight the Archdaemon and her posse.

_The Silver Fledgeling wants us._

_And he wants freedom as much as we do._

_Maybe even more._

_If you would just stop running from him, you will see._

_He will help us._

_He will be a good mate._

_He is a good mate._

_We must act now!_

_Too many strong demons around!_

_They might take our mate if we keep stalling like this!_

_They would!_

...Why haven't they? Vincent wondered. The demons here have long proved that they were NOT shy about pursuing someone, or coupling with someone...even in public spaces. And it was hard to miss the assessing looks that both he and Sephiroth have been receiving — the demons made no effort to hide them. But so far, no one had tried anything beyond just looking.

_That's because the Sun-treader has not yet bedded you._

_She has first right to you._

_She is their sovereign._

_Our slave-master._

_The Master of this territory._

_But she has not touched you._

_Why?_

_Why?_

That's what Vincent liked to know too.

So far Tah'rh had used her slaves mostly for making money in the stadium, but that was not the original reason why she had bought them. She had bought them so that they can appear in meetings between her and other demon lords. Though that had been delayed because of the "Duel & Screw" shows, and because there was a lot to learn for both Vincent and Sephiroth, and Tah'rh about the many many etiquettes surrounding slaves and slave ownership, lately, inevitably, Tah'rh and Tseng had begun bringing the two men to formal and semi-formal meetings with minor demon lords.

From the meetings that Vincent and Sephiroth had attended, it was clear that it was common practice for demon lords to exchange slaves with each other for a night or two for sexual pleasure, as a social bonding exercise, a show of hospitality and good will, and a show of their rare slaves. But so far, Tah'rh had only received other demon lords as guests, and as the host, she had never voluntarily offered her slaves. And it seemed to be poor etiquette for guests to ask for their host's slaves before they were offered — especially when the host hadn't yet touched her own slaves herself. And so even though some of the demon lords had eyed Vincent and Sephiroth with blatant interest, they could only try to subtly bring the issue to Tah'rh's attention. And every time that happened, Tah'rh had acted the oblivious fool, letting subtlety completely fly over her head. And so the demon lords could only sigh to themselves, shake their heads, and whisper to each other that the young Archdaemon had no idea what she was doing with her slaves. But Vincent wondered if Tah'rh was truly as oblivious as she acted, or was she using her reputed inexperience and brashness as a shield to...protect her slaves. But if so, why? What benefit could she possibly gain from doing that? But even if she truly was trying to protect her slaves from having to serve in other demon lords' beds, she couldn't hide behind the advantage of being the host forever. She will have to go visit other demon lords, and even other Archdaemons as _their_ guest eventually. What will happen to her slaves then?

Troubled by these thoughts, Vincent did not notice that his body's automatic movements had slowed. Sephiroth obviously sensed the ex-Turk's distraction then, for he then bit _hard_ into that particular spot at the junction of Vincent's neck and shoulder.

A low moan was forced past Vincent's lips, and the audience wildly cheered. Sephiroth then paused a little, shifted a little, then resumed his vigorous movements, angling each forceful thrust directly into the ex-Turk's prostate. Wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the air around them as Sephiroth's repeatedly pounded into Vincent's backside, purposely bouncing the ex-Turk's swollen cock, left completely unattended for he held Vincent's wrists firmly behind his back with one hand. And now, the other hand, the former general trailed it firmly, suggestively from Vincent's hip down to his thigh, then across to his groin, then to hardened flesh that pulsed and ached with the need to be touched. But the former general would not let the ex-Turk off so easily. His fingers made feather-light trails over the hard, hot cock, but danced away teasingly every time Vincent's hips jerked involuntarily in an attempt to gain more contact.

"Sephiroth..." Vincent growled lowly from between clenched teeth, turning his head slightly so that he could give the former general his hardest glare from his position on the ground.

Against a backdrop of cheering spectators, Sephiroth only smirked down at him in response, and then, as if daring him to retaliate, released his trapped wrists.

"Touch yourself." the former general commanded.

Anger flashed in Vincent's crimson eyes, but still, his hands obediently moved to wrap around his own length.

Sephiroth leaned down and grinned against Vincent's ear before he gave it a kiss, and whispered: "Very good, _Turk_."

A low growl rumbled in Vincent's chest that he wasn't sure anymore was his own or his demons'.

Perhaps he should try, really try to win a round of 'Duel & Screw', just once.

He had to admit that he admired Sephiroth's boldness though. In the face of an uncertain future, the young man had briskly and fearlessly walked down whichever path he chose, as if it were the last chance he will ever get to walk.

And perhaps it was, for the both of them.

"Come for me, Vincent." Sephiroth whispered again in Vincent's ear. A command, yet not, tinged subtly with the timbre of a plea. Desperation that was not entirely due to an imminent orgasm pounded over and over again inside Vincent's body.

And Vincent's body obeyed.

Just once then. Vincent allowed his own moans as his body shuddered in spasms and spurts of his semen shot onto Sephiroth's coat.

Just once. Before their temporary bubble of relative safety eventually, inevitably, bursts.

 


	20. Tea

**Warnings:** Bunch of Archdaemons talking to each other. Hope it's not a confusing mess :P

 

* * *

 

It would seem that the seasons in Hell worked in much the same way as on Gaia. With the passage of time, the days gradually grew warmer, and the Archdaemon's councillors and staff grew busier with the opening of the Summer Vortices. It appeared that these vortices meant that travel between the various parts of the Axis was much, much easier now than any other time of the year, and so inter-Axis trade, diplomatic activities and tensions were at their peak. Tah'rh was becoming very busy attending meetings with various demon lords, as well as with dignitaries from Heaven and the Spirit Realm, and so had less and less time to organize larger-scale entertainments of the Circle Stadium.

The rioters from Sunless Harbour had by now recovered from their injuries, and Tah'rh wasted no time making them pay back the damages that they've incurred on the harbour, as well as their hospital fees. They were given a choice between working with Totosai, bringing in a steady income from the smaller-scale shows centred around the stadium's beasts on top of their regular jobs, or spend some time in the Archdaemon's torture chambers, bringing in an income that way. Neither Vincent nor Sephiroth knew nor cared to know how exactly were income generated in the Archdaemon's torture chambers, but apparently it was quite lucrative. Tah'rh had given the leaders of the rioters no such choice, and made it mandatory for them to pay their dues in the torture chambers. Originally she had wanted to do the same with all the rioters, but Nami talked her out of it, saying that the harbour will need a certain amount of physically and mentally fit workers in order to function properly. And so, between the "Duel & Screws" and whatever the Archdaemon was doing in her torture chambers, enough money was raised to get Sunless Harbour back into working condition in time for the opening of the Summer Vortices.

All of that for Vincent and Sephiroth, meant that their duties were shifting away from the shows and the beasts of the Circle Stadium, and instead, their days were now focused mainly on Tseng's etiquette lessons and Tah'rh's formal meetings. And inevitably, those formal meetings began to involve Archdaemons from other Circles.

The first Archdaemon that they met in one of such meetings, was the Archdaemon of 5th Circle. Apparently the wealth of Hell was centred around the Mid Circles, and it showed in those Circles' Archdaemons.

The Archdaemon of 5th Circle appeared as a strikingly beautiful woman, and though she appeared young, no older than Tah'rh, she carried about her an unmistakeable air of confidence, power and dignity, befitting of nobility or even royalty. Her posse of councillors, servants and slaves seemed to have also come under that aura of hers, and held themselves in much the same way, and even...sparkled a little... Sephiroth wasn't sure, but the space occupied by the 5th Circle delegation just seemed...brighter somehow, than the rest of the room.

Tah'rh and her councillors however, startled in surprise at the sight of the 5th Circle Archdaemon. Tah'rh especially, her mouth went agape and her brows furrowed in concern.

"Tamako! I heard you've been feeling unwell lately but...are you alright?"

Vincent and Sephiroth would later learn that an Archdaemon addressing another Archdaemon by name, was a sign of close friendship. The Archdaemons normally addressed each other by the number of the Circle they ruled.

"I've been busy testing and implementing new technologies and policies to improve production and trade efficiency in the Circle, in time for the opening of the Summer Vortices, and so have not had much time for meals or sleep." the Archdaemon of 5th Circle explained as she gracefully sat down with Tah'rh in the tea room, the first place where Tah'rh receives her guests, before moving to Tah'rh's office or the banquet hall, or where ever else was appropriate for the type and nature of the meeting.

"It's no matter, it's only a temporary thing," the Archdaemon of the 5th continued as she daintily sipped the tea that Vincent and Sephiroth, as the host's slaves, had served her, "what is more important is that everything has been done on time, and are now running smoothly, I shall be able to relax again soon. And I have also completed a new proposal for our trade agreements. I find that an update to the terms is necessary. In light of the new advancements made in agricultural production and shipping, many things can be improved for the benefit of both our Circles. I also wish to discuss with you on the ways to best implement the new technologies to existing trade routes and trade ships. Policies and situations differ between Circles, I believe that the best efficiency can only be achieved when changes are tailored to benefit both parties."

She then made a subtle gesture at her Circle Treasurer, and the bespectacled, unassuming-looking young man stepped forward to place a very...VERY thick book on the table between the Archdaemons.

"You will find all the details of my proposal written here. Please review it and feel free to inform me of any inadequacies." the Archdaemon of the 5th nodded at the gigantic book.

"...Your work ethic is impeccable as always." Tah'rh stared at the book, her tail slowly drooping behind her.

The rest of the meeting went smoothly, easily, from Sephiroth's point of view anyway. He and Vincent were still new to the many, many rules to serving an Archdaemon, and he knew that they made many mistakes through the duration of the meeting. But the Archdaemon of 5th Circle made no comment on their mistakes, though she had surely noticed them. Her own slaves moved through their tasks with well-practiced, well-disciplined ease, contrasting sharply with Vincent and Sephiroth, still novices in their role. Several times, the 5th Circle slaves darted nervous glances at the two men, and exaggerated their own movements, hinting them to the correct way that they should be doing things. And some of those darting glances were also aimed at Tah'rh, who was no less a novice at being a slave owner, than Vincent and Sephiroth were at being slaves.

At the end of the meeting however, Tseng politely cleared his throat and asked the Archdaemon of 5th Circle if she had noticed any shortcomings in Tah'rh's new slaves, and if she had any advice. The Archdaemon of 5th Circle then took a long look at Vincent, Sephiroth, and Tah'rh, and launched into a long lecture, listing every mistake that slaves and slave master had made with brutal honesty. There were no malice behind her words, however. Sephiroth wondered if Tseng and Tah'rh had purposely arranged it so that Vincent and Sephiroth's first meeting with another Archdaemon would be with Tamako of the 5th.

As for the Archdaemon of the 7th, subjected to a long list of all her faults, Tah'rh scowled and tossed an accusing glare at Tseng. Tseng only answered with a pointed look of his own, and Tah'rh slumped in her seat like a teenager being lectured by her parents.

A week went by before they saw Tamako of the 5th again for the finalization of the new trade terms, and yet in that short time, the beautiful Archdaemon seemed to have gained a tremendous amount of weight, and now was almost egg-shaped. Her head had lost almost all visible bone structure, and was now but a round canvas for her still fine features.

When Tah'rh and her councillors saw that, they smiled smiles of relief.

"Tamako! You're looking much better! I'm so relieved to see that your health has recovered." Tah'rh exclaimed as she warmly invited the other Archdaemon to her seat. And the Archdaemon of the 5th sat down with every bit as much dignity and grace in her new egg-shaped body as she did in her previous visit.

Sephiroth stole a glance at the 5th's Archdaemon, and indeed, in her now rather obese body, she had more colour on her cheeks, sat straighter and stronger, and seemed to glow even more brightly than before.

The meeting went as smoothly as before, Vincent and Sephiroth did their best to implement all the training that Tseng put them through since the 5th's previous visit...least they have to go through Tseng's training again... And at the end of the meeting, Tseng once again asked Tamako for her observations and advice, and once again she candidly listed their faults, though the list was now shorter, and she noted their improvement when she finished.

Before she left however, she found opportunity to pull Tah'rh aside.

"I heard that you have not yet taken your slaves to bed, is that true?" she whispered.

Tah'rh visibly tensed, but nodded.

Tamako sighed, "I am not passing judgement on your actions, nor do I presume to guess at your intentions, but in my honest opinion, I think it's best if you take them as soon as possible. You can't dodge it forever, one of the others will ask for them sooner or later. It's better, kinder in the long run, if _you_ are their first, that you show them what they are to expect from an Archdaemon, teach them how to serve, before the time comes when you must send them to another Archdaemon's bed."

Tah'rh pressed her lips together and was silent for a long time before she finally nodded, but that nod seemed to be only for acknowledgement instead of agreement, for days passed and more Archdaemons came visiting, yet she still made no move to bed her slaves.

...

"Another riot, my my! You gave us quite a scare, Seventh. Our sincere apologies for our uncharacteristic display of poor etiquette earlier, we were simply agitated and concerned for your wellbeing. Pardon our inexperience, but we at the Fourth have not seen a riot in centuries." the Archdaemon of 4th Circle dabbed at the fleshy folds of his neck with a clean white handkerchief in an overdramatic display.

Somehow, Sephiroth was not surprised that the Archdaemon of 4th Circle turned out to be a demon version of President ShinRa.

Back when he was still with ShinRa, Sephiroth had once been an accidental witness to an argument between the then-new Turk Reno and the then-Turk leader Veld. Reno had just returned from a mission that clearly did not go well, and the young Turk, in pain from his wounds and half drunk out of his mind, had remarked loudly despite all of Veld's efforts to quiet him down, that the top ShinRa executives whom the Turks were assigned to protect "do nothing but flap their lips in long-winded conversations that go nowhere, and knew nothing but to preen in front of their large expensive mirrors and prance around in their fancy silk suits". While the young Turk had plenty of reason for his rant—he _had_ been dragged into the office, injuries and fatigue and all, just to fill out the reports on the mission for the ShinRa bureaucracy—it still wasn't wise to say such things, and this loudly, while inside ShinRa headquarters. You never know who might just happen to hear what you said. And as Reno's un-luck would have it, it just so happened that one of the "top ShinRa executives" that was involved in this mission was Rufus ShinRa, who just so happened to have stepped out of the elevator right behind the arguing Turks right at that unfortunate moment.

Everyone at the scene thought that Reno was for sure done for, including the redhead himself. Insulting the future president of ShinRa Electric Power Company was _never_ a smart move. And so Reno defiantly stared down the boy president-to-be in his customary slouch and his ever-wrinkled, unbuttoned Turk uniform, no doubt thinking that if he's to go down in flames anyway, then he'll go down in flames in style. But Rufus, the boy president-in-waiting, in his ever-neatly slicked-back blond hair and ever-pristine white suit, only stared back cooly into Reno's bloodshot eyes and said in a deadly quiet voice that the "lip-flapping" was as much a battle as those fought with guns and blades. And the "fancy silk suits" were as much armour as ones made of leather and steel.

If that was true, then, both Archdaemons of 4th and 7th were armed to the teeth. Tah'rh very much disliked the stiff and heavy cloths and overly elaborate weavings of gold and silver and precious gems of formal Archdaemon robes that weighed her down and hindered her movement, and often complained quite enthusiastically about it in front of Tseng. And yet here she was, in full Archdaemon regalia, heavy layers of meticulously embroidered robes were draped over her petite frame, and solid gold ornaments with large gemstones were carefully arranged in her dark red hair.

This was the first time that Vincent and Sephiroth had seen her dress in as much dark coloured clothing as the demon lord she's facing. She even wore shoes. Uncomfortable-looking ones too.

In all that uncharacteristic finery, she did well to not show discomfort in front of the other Archdaemon. Archdaemon-ShinRa on the other hand, did not seem to at all mind his own pompous costume, and was in fact, clearly quite proud of it.

Vincent and Sephiroth too, were "heavily armed". Virus and Trip had really outdone themselves this time. Stiff cuffs of black cloth, embroidered to match Tah'rh's robes, were fastened around their necks and upper arms. Long, thin chains—gold for Vincent, silver for Sephiroth, were connected between those cloth cuffs, and draped down their shoulder blades, shimmering along with the jewels embedded in them over the two men's sides and backs as they moved. Their translucent black pants where also heavily embroidered and jewelled around their ankles, and so were the stiff black cloths that were wrapped around the soles of their feet.

Virus and Trip had tied Sephiroth's hair, from temple to mid-back into a loose, sectioned ponytail. The layers of tied hair then provided anchors into which the two clothiers had woven delicate ornaments of fine silver and little white jewels that shimmered blue and green under the light.

For Vincent's wild tangle of jet black hair, Virus and Trip had long given up on taming it, and decided to work with its stiff stubbornness instead. They attached the two ends of a thick strip of embroidered red cloth at the ex-Turk's temples, and of course Vincent's hair then immediately attempted to swallow it. But the cloth was too thick to be completely hidden, and its red colour and its gold embroidery still peaked out from between the black strands as Vincent moved.

Formal slave-wear for humanoids was designed to have nothing between the slave's lower chest and knees. The slaves were also vigorously trained to move in such a way so that their hands remain within the bounds of that chest-to-knee area, and they were taught to NEVER move their hands anywhere near their head, neck, shoulders, back, upper arms, and lower legs. Those areas are where their masters pile on the pretty baubles and silks and lace and whatnots to show off their wealth. And as such, they were areas where weapons, poisons etc., could potentially be hidden.

Archdaemons, being some of the most powerful demons in Hell, were typically a resilient bunch, and it was highly unlikely that a slave could really cause them harm. However, there had been an incident in the past where a slave of the host Archdaemon had supposedly attempted to poison the visiting Archdaemon. The slave was discovered right on the spot and of course, died a slow and horrible death, but that wasn't important. Neither was the fact that the visiting Archdaemon was never in any real danger, and the "poisoning attempt" had many holes and couldn't have succeeded anyway. What was important was that war broke out between the two Circles. Someone had wanted that to happen, and they succeeded.

Sephiroth carefully mentally reviewed all the etiquette lessons that Tseng had given them. While they were getting ready for the meeting with the Archdaemon of the 4th, Tah'rh had hurriedly instructed Vincent and Sephiroth to follow all etiquette as closely as possible, and to "put on that poker face of yours."

"But still, even if you were the best behaved slaves in Hell, it probably won't matter," Tah'rh had scoffed, "this one is _not_ here to play nice."

And indeed, the Archdaemon of the 4th had been throwing punches even before he walked in the door. He had suddenly arrived in 7th Circle with little word beforehand, forcing Tah'rh, her councillors and household to scramble to get ready for his visit. He and his entourage had also acted the impatient bully when they arrived, loudly indignant about having to wait for Tah'rh to get ready while being served with the "inferior service of lesser beings". By the time that Tah'rh arrived, several of the pigeon maids were being browbeaten to tears. The young Archdaemon of the 7th looked like she wanted to punch demon-ShinRa in the face, but Tseng smoothly stepped in with his usually calm and diplomacy, and diffused the situation, claiming that an earlier riot had left Tah'rh away and busy, and not enough experienced servants in the palace to see to the visiting Archdaemon. The "riot", in truth, was but a small skirmish. Ever since Tah'rh sentenced the leaders of the Sunless Harbour riot to her torture chambers, the number and frequency of major fights in the Circle drastically went down. But that was enough truth for Tseng's lie to be convincing. His interference had also given Tah'rh the precious few minutes to calm and collect herself in order to face this foe.

The fact that a demon version of President ShinRa would be no friend of Tah'rh's was unsurprising. And also...a little reassuring — if Archdaemon-ShinRa was in any way similar to the President ShinRa that Sephiroth and Vincent was all too familiar with.

"Ah, I admit that I've been most uncharacteristically rash, but were it not for the awful things I've heard...rumblings from those loose-mouthed minor nobles..."

And he was. Exactly like President ShinRa, even down to the dramatic gestures he puts on display when speaking with his business and political rivals, pretending to chit chat over non-important, mundane matters, before he unhinges his jaws and strikes like the venomous viper he is.

"Rumours heard from court chit-chat? Surely you would not take those seriously." Tah'rh daintily stirred her tea.

"Of course not, but as one would learn after some centuries of experience dealing with such chit-chat, there is always a touch of truth in the most outrageous rumours. And this one has such serious potential to damage your reputation as Archdaemon, that I cannot simply sit by and let such poison spread. And that is why I have come, to confer with you on this matter."

"And what exactly _is_ 'this matter' that you wish to confer with me?"

"Ah, bold and to the point, most admirable characteristics! Very well, then I shall get to the point also. It is about your newly acquired slaves."

"Oh?" Tah'rh glanced disinterestedly at her two slaves, who were at the moment busy preparing tea at the far side of the tea room.

The serving of tea is a staple of formal meetings in the Axis, and is one of the primary duties of the host Archdaemon's slaves. Needless to say, one of Sephiroth and Vincent's first etiquette classes was on the proper way to make and serve tea. In the short time that he had spent in 7th Circle as Tah'rh's slave, Sephiroth had learned more about tea than he ever thought was possible to learn about tea. All the different kinds of tea leaves, the season and time of day during which each kind should or should not be served, the optimum water temperature for each kind, how many times each kind can be steeped, how many seconds was best to leave the tea leaves steeping the first time you pour hot water on them, how many seconds for the second time, how many seconds for the third time, what temperature the water should be when served to each different Archdaemon...

The former general of ShinRa Electric Power Company had attended tea ceremonies in Wutai during more diplomatic times, and he found that tea service in Hell was similar to that in some ways. During his time with ShinRa however, he never paid much attention to the tea itself, and certainly never thought that he might one day be the one serving it in similar settings. He quite enjoyed the ceremonies though, back then: the feeling of solemn calm, the artfulness, and the subtle aromas of the carefully prepared tea. And he still enjoy it now, despite it being part of his duties as a slave. And Vincent was clearly no stranger to tea ceremonies either. Sephiroth wondered if the blood of Wutai aristocracy flowed in the ex-Turk's veins, for he certainly looked the part as he sat quiet and poised before the low tea-table, the fragrant steam from the tea wafting about his graceful, nimble hands and fine-boned face as he gracefully poured the tea from a large cup with the tea leaves, to two smaller, empty cups for the Archdaemons, not spilling a single drop of liquid onto the table in the process. It was something that Sephiroth had yet to master. The large cup with the tea leaves had a lid that must be held slightly ajar with the forefinger, leaving just enough space between the lid and the edge of the cup for the water to come out, while not leaving a big enough space for the tea leaves to escape also, and at the same time, the middle finger and thumb are to hold the large, heavy cup full of hot water by the rim, and lift it up above the small empty tea cups and then down again in gracefully movements. Sephiroth had never held something that way before, and found the whole thing very awkward. He had yet to manage it without either spilling significant amounts of tea or letting tea leaves escape into the smaller cups. And so Vincent did most of the steeping and pouring, while Sephiroth prepared the tea leaves and did most of the leg work, bringing the tea to the Archdaemons.

"I heard that you have not yet taken them to bed, is that true?" demon-ShinRa eyed his host's two slaves while they worked over the tea set.

Tah'rh glanced at him, then casually sipped her tea, before replying, "You came in such a hurry, Fourth, I thought you had matters of great importance to discuss with me. But are you saying you're here for gossip about others' bedroom matters that minor demons whisper in the toilets? If it's impotence you're worried about, fear not, us of the 7th Circle have never known the problem, as I and..." she looked over at her councillors and bodyguards standing behind her, and several either looked away blushing or smiled back warmly, "...several in my company can attest. Is it such a big topic in the 4th?"

Demon-ShinRa's eyes darkened slightly at Tah'rh's mocking, but he smiled politely nonetheless, "Of course, 7th Circle has strong Currents and strong citizens...but the rumours are not about them, they're about your slaves. It is not wise to underestimate the importance of slaves, Seventh. Their behaviour and presentation are direct indications of an Archdaemon's knowledge of millennia of history and tradition, as well as his or her ability to command her subordinates. Who can say they can command a Circle, when they can't even tame slaves?"

Tah'rh glanced over at the 4th Circle slaves, lined up, kneeling silently against the wall, "Is that why you always have such a long line of slaves at your heel? Even for impromptu visits such as this?"

Demon-ShinRa chuckled disarmingly, "I was on my way to a meeting with the Sixth, actually, only I happened upon some vortices leading to your Circle on the way. With the Summer Vortices keeping us all so busy, we have not been able to meet as frequently, and this was a rare happenstance where I had some extra time between meetings, it would be horrible of me to not make use of it and pay you a visit, especially not now when there are such malicious rumours circulating about you."

"Is that so?" Tah'rh sipped her tea, "Then I must thank you, for taking time out of your day for your concern for me."

"Of course, of course! We are all Archdaemons of Hell. Those jackals in Heaven and Spirit Realm will take any sign of weakness from Hell, and try to latch their teeth onto our throats any chance they get. if one of us is compromised, all of us will be affected."

"I see, I shall try my best to not compromise anyone else."

"No no no, Seventh, you take my words too harshly! I only meant that it is only natural that we try to take care of each other, nothing more."

When both Archdaemons were no longer looking his way, Sephiroth stole a glance at the 4th Circle slaves. They were indeed numerous, certainly meant to inspire envy and fear for the wealth and power of their master. And their dress followed the traditional dress code for an Archdaemon's slaves to the letter. Demon-ShinRa's line about "an Archdaemon's knowledge of millennia of history and tradition", was a thinly-veiled jab at the much less tradition-abiding outfits that Sephiroth and Vincent wore.

Sephiroth wasn't one to pay much attention to clothing, but looking at the 4th Circle slaves, he was glad for Tah'rh's disrespect for this particular tradition. Tah'rh had claimed that traditional formal slave-wear made the slaves look like "plucked cockatrice". It was a rather fitting description, thought Sephiroth as he recalled those vain bird-lizards that he and Vincent had worked with in the Circle Stadium. The 4th Circle slaves had a massive amount of colourful fabrics and jewels wrapped around their heads, neck and shoulder area, and ankles, but were completely bare everywhere else. They indeed looked like a cockatrice would when it proudly puffed up its colourful plumage — if the rest of its body were shaved or plucked.

It was not until these meetings with other Archdaemons that Sephiroth realized how lucky he was to have pants, translucent as they were. Apparently Tah'rh and Tseng had fought long and hard over it. Tah'rh had vehemently insisted that "that ankle crap" had been out of style for centuries ("I'll have them wear those things IF and WHEN they come back to style, but not a moment sooner!"), and that low-riding pants that showed off the "V" shape on a male's hips were now all the rage. ("Plus, they're much sexier.") It was a long battle, but Tseng eventually yielded, but only because there had been precedents of Archdaemons dressing their dancing slaves with translucent scarves around the waist.

Sephiroth had planned to discreetly retrieve his gaze from the 4th Circle slaves before anybody noticed him. Before he could, however, he found himself locking eyes with the slave that knelt closest to Archdaemon-ShinRa.

He was a wolf youkai, like Fenris. Sephiroth didn't know how he was so sure of that, but that slave...felt...similar to Fenris, somehow. The slave did have a wolf tail dragging behind him, though he had pointed human-like ears instead of Fenris's wolf ears. He looked to be around Fenris's age, and also had black hair and blue eyes like Fenris, though his hair wasn't spiky at all, but was tied neatly in a high ponytail.

The wolf youkai cooly regarded Sephiroth, his expression unreadable, then he dropped his gaze back down to his lap as if nothing had happened.

Like Sephiroth, Tah'rh was studying the 4th Circle slaves also.

"Speaking of reputations, you seem to have rather...unique ways of taming your slaves," she said quietly as she eyed them, "those tattoos on their necks, if I recall, those are mind-controlling hexes that the slave-trafficking crime rings are known for."

Sephiroth had noticed those tattoos too. Though they were mostly hidden behind the fabrics and decorations and slave collars, it was still not difficult to notice the solid patches of black with a dash of something reddish on several of the 4th Circle slaves' throats.

Demon-ShinRa gave another chuckle as he idly stirred his tea, "Ah, it's understandable that you do not know, you haven't been Archdaemon for very long, and you Inner Circles have always concentrated your energies on your duties as assists for the 9th. But us of the Mid Circles, we have the major streams of the Currents flowing through our realms, and must look after all the different races and factions that travel and trade on them. Managing them is a very complex task, and require more finesse than simply chasing down clear targets like escaped prisoners. Some of the things that the crime-rings do are certainly deplorable, but we of the Mid Circles can not be so rash as to simply beat them down and cart them all off to jail. It's neither unusual nor new for us to have some diplomatic relations with them, for the good of all our realms. The Archdaemon of the 5th had long maintained relations with several different crime-rings. The Archdaemon of the 6th is himself the head of a crime-ring family."

"That much is true." Tah'rh sat her tea down on the table again and folded her hands neatly beside it, "But the 5th only ever associates with those crime-rings that affect the trade routes and economy of their Circle. 6th's family has long controlled the flow of money and power in their Circle, it was only a matter of time before one of them becomes Archdaemon. But both of them keep those crime-rings involved with the slave trade at arm's length. After all, consorting with those too closely do bring implications of interfering in the mortal realms..."

Demon-ShinRa laughed dismissively, "Those tattoos are but some small trick, anyone of any competence who had seen something of the slave trade can learn it. I'm simply borrowing the technique to tame some unruly slaves. But associating too closely with Watchers, Seventh, is also ill-advised. It could bring one's loyalty to Hell into question..."

Sephiroth wondered about demon-ShinRa mentioning "associating too closely with Watchers". Before his sudden arrival, Tah'rh had indeed been in a meeting with representatives from Spirit Realm. The former general did not know the details of those meetings though, for Spirit Realm does not use slaves, so Vincent and Sephiroth's presence were not required for those meetings.

Tah'rh smiled back politely, "The Inner Circles have long held diplomatic relations with Spirit Realm and Heaven in high importance, it is crucial for our duties to keep the Axis safe from dangerous individuals that might escape from the 9th. Surely, you understand that we of the Inner Circles must make certain compromises too."

"Ah, pardon me," smiled demon-ShinRa, "I may have spoken too harshly. But those rumours about you, Seventh... You're still young, and they whisper that your close association with Spirit Realm might have impressed upon you some of their warped views on slaves."

"Oh?" Tah'rh questioned lightly.

"Their Watchers constantly pester us, trying to tell us that keeping slaves is 'wrong'. Humph! Ridiculous!" demon-ShinRa's face grew red in real emotion as he began to speak with more and more passion, "These are lesser beings, they live for but a brief flash in the best circumstances, and they replicate themselves by the millions at the drop of a hat. It is their great fortune and honour that ones as lowly as them are able to serve us. They are fed our food, sheltered in our buildings, taught our good manners and proper behaviour, instead of rolling around in the diseased mud piles that they call 'home'. They are weaklings that got themselves caught by the slavers. The slavers work hard for their living, and we pay good Jin for their work. And since we paid our hard-earned Jin for our slaves, then why should we not expect returns for the Jin we paid? And yet many of these lesser beings are too stupid to understand that, completely ungrateful, unruly. When they disobey us, their masters, their betters, of course we should punish them in the ways that their primitive minds can understand!"

"Primitive minds they may have," Tah'rh sipped her tea nonchalantly as she eyed those black tattoos again, "but from what I heard, some of the methods that the crime-rings use can be quite dangerous, There have been numerous incidents where what little minds the slaves had were permanently destroyed."

"Ah, well, some slaves are just hopeless, despite our best efforts. When that happens, what can you do? It'd be a shame to waste all that Jin, we're not throwing our money out for charity here. Without a mind, they may not be smart workers, but they're obedient workers, and the crime rings, you must admit, are quite good at wiping away all the unnecessary things, whittling their primitive minds down to just what they need to perform their functions. At least this way we can get a decent return for our investment, should we have the misfortune of having invested in a troublesome slave." demon-ShinRa waved dismissively before he too picked up his tea cup and took a sip.

Sephiroth stole a glance at the 4th Circle slaves again, and noticed that the wolf youkai was looking discreetly at the slave beside him from under lowered eyelids. The slave beside the wolf youkai was another young male, with red-brown hair, olive skin, and what appeared to be a pale-green, tear-shaped tattoo under one of his light-green eyes. Those eyes of his though, were strangely unfocused, and his face was slack, completely devoid of any emotion, any personality. Sephiroth's eyes glanced down at the slave's neck, and there it was, that strange blotch of solid black with something pink or red, peeking out from under the ridiculous ruffles of jewelled cloth around his neck.

"Humph! Those Watchers should keep their noses in their own business! They are nothing but trouble! The less we associate with their kind, the better, wouldn't you agree, Seventh?" demon-ShinRa peered at Tah'rh from behind his tea cup.

Tah'rh slowly stirred her tea while she silently watched the other Archdaemon.

"What are you trying to say, Fourth? Beg your pardon, but we of 7th Circle are a simple, blunt bunch, intricate word-play are sadly lost on us."

"Oh, no, no, you misunderstand me," demon-ShinRa gave another disarming chuckle, "I mean no offence. I'm simply trying to warn you of the slander being used against you. Spirit Realm after all, is not part of Hell. They have they own agendas, just like Heaven. I understand that diplomatic relations are important for controlling the convicts of 9th Circle, but with one with _your_ talents being Archdaemon, surely that means we can be a bit less dependent on those outsiders? Isn't that why your Circle chose an Undying as its Archdaemon?"

At that, the air in the room seemed to freeze. Everybody's eyes turned to Tah'rh.

Tah'rh sat unmoving in her seat as she regarded ShinRa. Behind her, her councillors seemed to have collectively stopped breathing as they looked nervously to their Archdaemon.

But then, Tah'rh smiled graciously, "I am flattered that you hold me in such high regard, Fourth, but I'm not nearly as 'talented' as you say. I'm just one person, my power alone isn't enough to negate all the assistance that Spirit Realm and Heaven have given us."

"You're too modest, Seventh! Isn't it said that the Undying..."

Behind ShinRa, a demon version of Heidegger loudly cleared his throat, and too-obviously leaned down to whisper in his Archdaemon's ear. The Archdaemon of the 4th's eyes then widened comically.

"My sincere apologies, Seventh! Look at me! Forgetting all about that incident! Ever since then, you lost your... Ah, please forgive me, I meant no offence, it was just so long ago that it completely slipped my mind!"

Tah'rh smiled a bit wider and subtly adjusted her posture, "Really now? I was under the impression that I've made _quite_ an impression on the Axis, if my sentence in the 9th was any indication."

ShinRa's exaggerated apologetic smile immediately faltered, but he quickly gathered himself again.

"Ah, my deepest apologies! Of course, your deeds can be said to be legendary, but I as Archdaemon of one of the Mid Circles, never presume to pry too much into the businesses of the 9th, or the rest of the Inner Circles. I only know of the larger strokes, not the finer details. And with the opening of the Summer Vortices, I've been so very busy, have so many things to attend to for my own Circle, that I've let slip some details about other Circles. Again, my sincere most, sincere most apologies!"

"Understandable," Tah'rh nodded, "even we here at 7th have our hands full with the Summer Vortices, I can't imagine how things would be this time of year for the trading ports of the Mid Circles. Must be hard for one who has _so much_ to mind as you, Fourth."

"You are too kind, Seventh," demon-ShinRa squeezed the corners of his mouth a bit farther apart, and gestured to Vincent and Sephiroth, "the tea I've brought you must be ready by now. We at the 4th very much appreciate the diplomatic relations between our two Circles, and this gift was meant to be a token of our wish that our good relations continue. I hope it is to your taste. And I hope it can be of some compensation for my blunder."

"Mountain First Frost, a most rare and precious tea indeed," said Tah'rh as she too looked towards her slaves, "your gift is much appreciated, Fourth. I only hope that the novice skills of my slaves will not do it injustice."

Hearing their cue, Vincent poured two cups of tea for the Archdaemons and placed them on a tray. Sephiroth then took up the tray and made his way towards a demon-version of Palmer that waited a few paces behind demon-ShinRa.

The 4th Circle evidently had a much more rigid social hierarchy than the 7th, Tseng had taught them about that. Slaves there could not serve or speak to their masters directly because the gap between their social status was too wide. Interactions between slaves and masters must pass through special chamberlains — people who are below the masters, but above the slaves — to bridge that status gap.

Sephiroth and Vincent therefore could not bring the tea directly to the table, or it'll be considered a grave insult to the 4th Circle demon lords. Instead, they must bring the tea to the chamberlain, who will then bring it to the Archdaemons at the table.

Sephiroth mentally went over Tseng's lessons again: walk with your back bowed, your arms stretched reverently before you, clearly displaying the objects you bear; keep your footsteps small and demure, your head lowered, your eyes down, only seeing enough of your path to bring you to your destination, and you must _never_ look at anyone in the eye. With someone like President ShinRa here and obviously bearing ill intent, the former general was careful not to make any mistakes for vipers to latch their teeth onto.

When demon-Palmer stretched out his hands to take the tray, Sephiroth made doubly sure that his hands did not touch the chamberlain's, that the chamberlain had a firm grip on the tray, before letting his own hands fall away.

CRASH! The tray and the cups of tea smashed onto the ground, splattering hot liquid and pieces of porcelain onto Sephiroth's legs.

"INSOLENT SLAVE! HOW DARE YOU DROP THIS TEA! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH JUST ONE DROP OF IT COSTS? MUCH MORE THAN YOUR INCOMPETENT LIFE!" demon-Palmer screeched.

Sephiroth's eyes snapped up in surprise, and outrage. The chamberlain had dropped the tray on purpose, and was now trying to frame him for it.

Before he could do anything however, somebody was instantly beside him, bumping into him. A calloused hand locked around his forearm in a strong grip, and pulled him towards the ground as that somebody knelt.

It was Vincent. A thought of resistance flashed through Sephiroth's mind, but was abandoned, and the former general followed the ex-Turk down, allowing his knees to bend and touch the ground.

As soon as they were both on the ground, Vincent released Sephiroth's arm, bent forward in a full bow, touching his forehead to the ground, ignoring the spilled tea and the broken porcelain pieces, and let gush a loud stream of words of apology and self-depreciation.

Sephiroth forced his body to copy Vincent's posture and his tongue to parrot Vincent's words, but his blood boiled. Vincent was right, this was the best thing, and the only thing that they could do. Archdaemon-ShinRa could admit that it was Palmer who had dropped the tea, or diplomatically "forgive" Tah'rh's slaves, and the incident could be over just like that. But of course, he wasn't going to do either. He was making no moves at all in fact, but was simply sitting there, sipping his tea, watching demon-Palmer make a show of berating Sephiroth and Vincent. He was blatantly waiting for Tah'rh to make her move.

Even if it was obvious to everyone in the room that it was Palmer who dropped the tea, not Sephiroth, if Tah'rh defended her slaves against the much higher-status 4th Circle chamberlain, especially when it involves dropping the gift-tea that the Archdaemon of 4th Circle had brought as a token of goodwill — as he had so loudly proclaimed just moments before — then she would be openly breaking relations with 4th Circle, and risk war. From all the word-battling that she and ShinRa had been doing, it was clear that the two Archdaemons hated each other. And yet the ever-hot-headed Tah'rh was making a serious effort to keep up the appearance of diplomacy. There had to be a reason for it, a very important reason. She would not throw it away for the lowest of the low of her realm. Her slaves will have to be punished, no matter what.

"My deepest apologies, Fourth. My slaves are clumsy and have not fully completed their training, but I have not expected them to disappoint me so." As expected, Tah'rh made no effort to dispute her slaves' guilt.

Tseng hurriedly instructed the household staff to clean up the mess and see to the 4th Circle chamberlain, then he too, apologized profusely to demon-ShinRa.

To everyone's surprise, demon-ShinRa only chuckled and waved dismissively, "They are your first slaves, Seventh, and you've not had them for very long. It's understandable."

Sephiroth felt Vincent, kneeling so close to him, subtly tense. And he agreed. ShinRa had put a lot of effort into orchestrating this "accident"; to "forgive" it so easily...whatever he was planning can't be good.

"This however, is an example of why we should have our slaves learn the bedroom service as soon as possible."

It indeed did not take long for ShinRa to make his move.

"Will you have them rise up a bit? I'd like a better look at them." requested demon-ShinRa.

Tah'rh exchanged a glance with Tseng, then nodded at demon-ShinRa and instructed her slaves to rise. Vincent and Sephiroth then rose from their full bow on the floor to an upright, kneeling position, wisely keeping their eyes lowered the whole time.

Demon-ShinRa studied them for a few moments, then hummed sagely, "Hmm, the black-haired one seems obedient enough, but your Silver, he's like a wild horse that still needs to be tamed. Slaves with too much spirit, unwilling to learn, unwilling to obey, like this one, are the exact thing that the bedroom service will gentle. Delaying it for too long will only let that spirit run unchecked, like wildfire, and may eventually ruin the slave, make them too wild to control."

"My utmost apologies for making you witness such a disgraceful display, Fourth," said Tah'rh with an apologetic nod, "I am indeed a novice at slave training. I shall punish them severely for insulting you and your chamberlain. They will not make this mistake a second time."

"No no, that won't be necessary," demon-ShinRa smiled as he waved, "as I said, slaves with stubborn spirits are most effectively and efficiently tamed with the bedroom service. May I make a proposal, Seventh? You are new to slave training, but one of your slaves happen to have a difficult temperament. I on the other hand, have dealt with many like him before. If you would exchange his night with one of mine's, then I will personally train him and give you back a slave befitting of your status as Archdaemon."

Sephiroth gritted his teeth and willed his heartbeat to remain steady. The act of demon lords sending slaves to each other's beds was called "exchanging nights". It was a social practice done for relation-building and diplomacy, almost like exchanging gifts. The "exchanged" slaves would stay with the demon lord that they're sent to for anywhere from a few hours to a day, during which their sole purpose was to please the demon lord in bed, in order to curry favour for their owners. The former general had noticed the other demon lords trying to bring this up with Tah'rh, and he had always known that one day she will do the "exchange" — she has all the reasons to do it and no reason not to. But now that it's actually happening, it still feels like a punch in the gut. Especially with a demon version of President ShinRa... From where he knelt, Sephiroth could smell the sharp, artificial mix of of cologne, cleaning detergent and some kind of smoke coming off of that bloated, unwieldy body. He imagined that body pressed close to him, and that smell surrounding him and forcing its way into his nostrils... He stole a glance at Archdaemon ShinRa's baby-soft, sausage-like fingers heavy with jewelled rings, and imagined them running over his bare skin...

His stomach turned.

His eyes darted over to Vincent's hands. Though one was a bit deformed: having tough, purple skin and savage claws, both hand's fingers were long and thin, but held tremendous strength and were heavily calloused from years of fighting. Those were hands that had once helped bring Sephiroth's insane, almost god-like self down from the sky. Currently though, Sephiroth found them curled into tight fists at the ex-Turk's sides, their knuckles turning white. The puzzled former general glanced up at Vincent's face, but found it impassive as always.

He had to quickly direct his glance back down to the floor however, for there were eyes on him. Tah'rh was studying him with her brows slightly furrowed as she hesitated to answer the other Archdaemon.

Seeing Tah'rh's hesitation, demon-ShinRa gave his chamberlain a meaningful look. The demon version of Palmer then made a harsh sound at the olive-skinned slave kneeling beside the wolf youkai, and made a quick gesture towards Tah'rh.

Without a word, the slave got up obediently, walked over to Tah'rh, and knelt at her feet.

"This is one of my favourites, I trained him personally." introduced demon-ShinRa with a confident grin.

Without needing to be prompted, the handsome slave began to gently nuzzle his head against Tah'rh's knee.

Tah'rh watched him for a bit, then she reached out a hand and stroked the slave's red-brown hair. The slave leaned into her touch and began to nuzzle her with more enthusiasm. Tah'rh's hand then slid down the side of his head to his cheek, then to the vulnerable pulse on his neck, then down past his collarbone to his chest. The slave responded with submission and pleasure, arched his body into every touch, and let out a small sigh. His eyes though, remained green pools of nothing, no matter what his body did.

"What do you think, Seventh?" asked demon-ShinRa, his confident grin growing.

Tah'rh let her hand trailed back up from the slave's chest to his chiseled jaw, then she hooked her taloned fingers around his jaw bone and lifted his chin. Her eyes turned gold from the centre, pushing back the dark red colour of her irises and revealing slitted pupils, much like they did when she had examined potential slaves at the slave market where she had bought Sephiroth and Vincent.

The entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting while she studied the 4th Circle pleasure slave's empty eyes. Then, a smile of approval appeared on her lips.

 

* * *

**Additional Disclaimers:** Tamako of the manga and anime series "Gin no Saji" (Silver Spoon) belong to Hiromu Arakawa (yes, the same mangaka as Fullmetal Alchemist). Though their names were not mentioned in this chapter, Koga of the manga and anime series "Inuyasha" belong to Rumiko Takahashi; Mizuki of the visual novel game and anime series "Dramatical Murder" belong to Nitro+CHiRAL. I do not own them and make no profit from them. I'm only borrowing them for a bit :P


	21. Murmurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's notes:** I'm truly sorry for the long silence, but this chapter has been kicking my ass. Originally I had debated whether to split this chapter in two, then I decided not to, then I was pondering whether I should split this in THREE, it just kept getting longer and longer and... So anyways, I've finally decided to split it in two, it was just becoming unmanageable with how long it was getting. This is the first part, the second part should be up soon-ish :P Real life had been giving me a break, and it was glorious, but all good things must come to an end :( And my window of free time is disappearing. I know I have left a lot of things on the sidelines, stuff I haven't written, stories I haven't read and/or reviewed... But I am determined to get everything that I wanted to get done finished before my free time completely disappears, which would also mean the next chapter of this story. Thank you to all who's been following this story through its erratic breaks, I'll do my best to get the chapters out as quickly as I am able. And know that your comments and kudos mean much to me and do a lot in keeping me going through my own self-doubts :)
> 
>  **Warnings:** Don't want to spoil too much, but there will be blood and violence and people getting hurt in this chapter. But it's short and not too too bad I don't think...

 

"You find him pleasing, Seventh?" asked demon-ShinRa, a smug grin on his face, already confident that he knew her answer.

Tah'rh glanced over at him from her examination of the pleasure slave, "He's truly a fine specimen. So very responsive, and he seems to be quite tough." She then turned back to the slave and once again, looked into his blank green eyes, her talons still under his jaw to keep him in place, "Yes...there is strength in him... I expect that he is able to survive and recover from even the most horrible things that an Archdaemon might do to him..."

Demon-ShinRa's grin widened lewdly, "Oh yes, I can attest that he's been well-trained in _all_ manners of service that an Archdaemon might ask of him."

Sephiroth noticed a small twitch in the wolf youkai's pointed ears at Tah'rh's words, but nobody else seemed to be paying enough attention to him to notice.

"I'm curious though, if you'll pardon me asking," Tah'rh released the slave's lifted jaw and trailed a finger down his throat to the black and red tattoo, which Sephiroth could now see was a picture of a pink heart with white wings on a shapeless black background, "if he's so well-trained, why did you feel the need to control him with this?"

"Ah, that," nodded demon-ShinRa, "The news seems to have not yet reached the Inner Circles, but it's been noticed that as a side effect of this taming technique, the slaves performed better in the bedroom service after having this procedure done. I'm sure you've noticed how the lesser beings always seem to have all those unnecessary inhibitions about this and that, and this procedure seems to free them from all that. In the Mid and Outer Circles, you'll find that I'm not the only one who borrows this hex from the crime rings. It's becoming a bit of a trend, actually."

"Really. I can see why." Tah'rh's fingers slowly traced the slave's lips, and the slave parted them slightly, obediently, "It wouldn't do for slaves to say unnecessary things during an exchange, all pleasure slaves have to have something or other done to them to prevent that. If this "trick" of the crime rings also has the added effect of taking away their...reluctance, and enhancing their performance, then I can see it becoming quite popular."

"Although..." Tah'rh glanced back up at demon-ShinRa, "the crime-rings' methods are known to the Watchers, and for some of those methods, the Watchers have found ways to reverse them, restore the slaves' minds to what they once were. I hear just recently, they have confiscated some suspiciously acquired slaves, restored their minds, and were able to gain quite a bit of information for their fight against the crime rings from those slaves. Surely, if demon lords can borrow some tricks from the crime-rings, then they can borrow some tricks from the Watchers also. Think of what things a slave who has had his mind restored to him, would say..."

There, a twitch under his lowered eyelids. The wolf youkai was definitely listening. Sephiroth watched the 4th Circle slave discreetly, intrigued.

"I...have not heard of such things... I was under the impression that this procedure is permanent..." demon-ShinRa's fake smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

"Well, the Inner Circles' diplomatic relations with Heaven and Spirit Realm _does_ give us a few benefits... The most updated information on their internal affairs, new advances in technology, etcetera ." Tah'rh smiled sweetly at demon-ShinRa as she lightly stroked the handsome slave's cheek.

"Are you certain of the...validity of that information?" demon-ShinRa asked suspiciously, "...Not that I'm doubting you, of course not. I have heard of a few immortals who were able to recover from the crime-rings' hexes, but those cases are extremely rare. The minds of mortals are too weak. If recovery is difficult and rare for even immortals, then for mortals...it's impossible! Those outsiders, who knows what they'll say sometimes. If they really do have such a counter to the crime-rings' most powerful hexes, then why haven't the Watchers used it until now?"

"Well, I have a few theories." Tah'rh lifted her finger from the 4th Circle pleasure slave's cheek, the slave had been leaning docilely into her touch, once it's gone however, he seemed to have lost all reason to move. He sat frozen, awkward-looking in his leaning pose, his eyes unseeing, an empty husk.

"One:" Tah'rh began to count off her theories on her fingers, "they have somehow recently acquired new information on the crime-rings, perhaps from someone they captured from said crime-rings, or an escaped slave. And that information has enabled them to develop ways to counter some of the tricks that the crime-rings use. Or two: one or more of their new recruits have some special ability that allow them to restore minds that the crime-rings wiped. The Watchers do have a bit of a fast turn-over rate, and they hire just about anybody from anywhere. Or three: ...well, actually that's all the theories I got. Unless you have some thoughts, Fourth?"

"Ah...I...am not nearly as familiar with the Spirit Realm or the Watchers as you of the Inner Circles, I'm afraid I have nothing to add." demon-ShinRa squeezed his features into a somewhat apologetic smile.

"Hm. Pity." hummed Tah'rh as she let her hand drift back to the unmoving slave still kneeling by her knees, and began stroking his red-brown hair, "If it's true that the Watchers have found a method to reverse these crime-ring mind-hexes, then I'm sure many in Hell would find use for it." At her touch, the slave began moving again, once again leaning into her touch and nuzzling her knee a little.

"Mortals are indeed weak, fragile, and lacking in mental facilities." Tah'rh continued to muse as she continued to pet the pleasure slave absently, "But Spirit Realm doesn't seem to think so, they really do hire just about anyone and anything into their Watcher ranks. Many of the Axis scoff at them for casting such a wide net, but they do catch some colourful fish now and then, don't you agree, Fourth?" she cast a slow smile at ShinRa, "Some of them bearing such colourful talents that even an Undying can only look on in envy. But you are right, Fourth, we shouldn't take what they tell us at face value. Perhaps I should look deeper into this new counter-hex or whatever it is of theirs the next time I see them."

Demon-ShinRa coughed a little around his tea, but before he could say anything, Tah'rh suddenly straightened up.

"Ah, my apologies, I've rambled on. About the exchange. It is indeed an ancient tradition steeped in wisdom. It helps creates bonds through mutual gain, mutual exchange of goodwill. You do something for me, I do something for you. The basis of a mutually beneficial working relationship. And it helps the slaves become better too, as you said."

"Ah...yes, it is a most important tradition indeed, I've always thought so myself." demon-ShinRa stiffened a little, but still managed an almost-natural smile, "So are you agreeing to the..."

"I'm afraid I can not," interrupted Tah'rh smoothly, "my slaves have grievously insulted you, my most honoured guests, how can I shamelessly burden you with their training after letting you suffer such offence?"

Demon-ShinRa opened his mouth as if to protest, but Tah'rh held up a hand and continued.

"I very much appreciate the offer, Fourth, and I appreciate your kindness to your slaves, willing to teach them, willing to use softer methods to correct their behaviours even after such an inexcusably clumsy mistake. I'm afraid us of the Inner Circles cannot afford such gentleness. This is a harsh place, we are a harsh people. Any excess softness will quickly be...eaten." her dark-red eyes slid over to demon-Palmer, who visibly blanched and shrank a little.

"I simply can not let this slide, that would be an insult to both you and my Circle. My slaves will be shown exactly why they should not insult my guests, right here, right now. Albert," Tah'rh turned to the crow butler waiting by the door, "bring in the Punishers."

"Right away, my lord." the crow bowed formally, and then turned to leave.

"And Edelle," Tah'rh addressed one of the pigeon maids, "go bring up our best 'Red Dancer'."

"Yes, my lord." the maid bowed with a slight bit of dramatic flare, then left also.

"Red Dancer?" demon-ShinRa's eyes bulged.

"You've heard of it?" asked Tah'rh.

"Of course," demon-ShinRa smiled, if a little stiffly, "one of the finest liquors of the Axis, the Inner Circles are quite well-known for it."

"Ah, as expected of one as experience and knowledgeable as you." smiled Tah'rh, "Then you must know this also: despite having "red" in its name, the Red Dancer is actually clear, colourless. Why is that, do you know?"

"Yes," demon-ShinRa straightened up a little and smiled a little, armouring up a little for whatever Tah'rh was planning to bring to the table, "yes of course. It's because it's meant to be drank mixed with a few drops of blood."

"That's right! As expected of you, Fourth!" Tah'rh beamed, "And not just any blood, to bring out its best taste, it has be blood that is flavoured with the sweet tang of pain."

Tah'rh gestured to two thick pillars in the room that had what at first glance looked like decorative metal rings attached to it, but at a closer look, those metal rings were heavily enforced, and the pillars themselves were made of sturdier material than the rest of the room, "It's an ancient tradition of the Inner Circles to share the Red Dancer with our most important guests. Though we haven't practiced the ritual for a long time, we still have all the equipment standing right where they always were. I see no reason not to start using them again. My slaves have insulted you by spilling the precious Mountain First Frost you've given us, and now they shall serve you our best Red Dancer with their blood. I hope that this will be adequate compensation?"

Just then a polite knock sounded at the door, and it opened to reveal Albert, Edelle holding a tray with a uniquely shaped bottle decorated simply with a red cloth on its top, and two tall figures in black hooded cloaks.

A cold chill followed the hooded figures as they swept into the room, along with the strong, pungent smell of the poisonous plant, Argonia. Their faces were completely hidden by their hoods, and their hands were wrapped in black bandages. They walked with the ominous jingle of chains, and at their hips swung wicked-looking whips.

Sephiroth was at least satisfied with the look on demon-Palmer's suddenly sheet-white face as his bulging eyes took in what must be the "Punishers". The wolf-youkai slave however, was much more interesting to look at. Upon the entrance of the Punishers, his brows furrowed and he wrinkled his nose, perhaps at the strong smell of Argonia, then his eyes darted to the hooded figures, then the Archdaemons, then straight at the observing Sephiroth, then finally, back down to his lap. All of that was done in but a few seconds, and the slave made no more move after that. Everyone else seemed to have been too busy staring at the Punishers to notice him.

"Ahem, Fourth?" Tah'rh politely cleared her throat at demon-ShinRa.

The blond Archdaemon blinked away from the impressive figures of the Punishers, then plastered on another one of his business smiles, "Of course, Seventh, that's a most creative and fitting solution, as expected of you."

"You flatter me, Fourth. I still have much to learn." Tah'rh smiled back.

The Punishers spared no words and wasted no time. They stepped behind Vincent and Sephiroth, grabbed their collars at the back of their necks, and roughly hoisted them up to their feet as if they were a pair of misbehaving livestock.

Sephiroth puzzled on who these "Punishers" might be while he allowed himself to be dragged and shoved in a less than dignified manner to the pillars. As Tseng had taught them in their lessons, slave masters, especially high-ranked ones, were supposed to have a team of various occupations of slave handlers to help said slave masters with the chores of keeping a large number of slaves. The Archdaemon of the 4th, for example, had chamberlains of course, to relay his orders to the slaves, and he also had a large number of grooms and slave keepers that see to the slaves' basic training and mundane everyday needs such as their food and shelter. "Punishers" were slave handlers who, as their title suggests, dish out punishments when the slave master didn't feel like doing it him/herself, or in formal settings such as this meeting.

Tah'rh, having not planned to have slaves, had long dismissed the slave handlers that she had inherited from the previous Archdaemon. Now that she has slaves, she dismissed any suggestion that she should hire a new set of slave handlers. She insisted that having to pay the salaries of slave handlers was a waste of money, and instead pushed the "handling" of Vincent and Sephiroth onto any hapless soul around the palace that she could grab: her guards, her household staff, her councillors, etc. Her impromptu "slave handlers" took their expanded list of duties in stride however. After all, it provided them the perfect excuse and leverage as they argued and bartered and wheedled their Archdaemon into granting them non-monetary favours to compensate for their time and trouble. Reno made his extremely reluctant Archdaemon give up her front row seat tickets to the annual inter-Circle team-disket championships tournaments to him. Cissnei was more practical, she had Tah'rh move the funding priority of upgrading the guards' equipment and vehicles from 300th or so down the list, to top five, meaning that as soon as they had some Jin to spare after repairing the major infrastructures of the Circle, the guards will FINALLY be having some technology in their gear that was NOT near-obsolete — as Sephiroth had heard several of the guards cheer enthusiastically. The pigeon maids collectively got a staff holiday to the Circle's premium hot spring resort. Albert didn't ask for the resort holiday however, and when asked what he asked for, he simply answered with a small, mysterious smile.

It probably would have been a lot less trouble on Tah'rh, if she had just done it the normal way and hired slave handlers. But she hadn't. And so she had none. So who were these "Punishers" and from where did she grab them on such short notice?

The most obvious guess would be that she had one of her guards or household staff disguise themselves as these "Punishers", but even having them stand so close, their bandage-wrapped hands on his skin, Sephiroth could not detect anything familiar about them — not in the way they moved, the way they felt...nothing.

The Punishers took no notice of the former general's ponderings however, and roughly yet expertly chained him and Vincent each to the metal rings of each pillar.

Pigeon maids then flocked around Vincent and Sephiroth to carefully strip them of their fine, expensive jewelries and clothes, and tied their hair out of the way, then they hurried off as soon as they were done.

Standing behind the now naked slaves, the Punishers slowly unfurled their whips, swung them over their heads, then...

CRACK!

Instantly a line of red streaked across the pale skin of Vincent's back. Sephiroth watched as the ex-Turk hissed and arched away, as far as he could, from the strike, then a whip landed on his own back soon after.

Sephiroth gave a jerk and a grunt at the first strike. It stun. The Punisher was strong and merciless. But...

He glanced at the pale Turk chained on the other pillar a few paces away from him.

It looked bad. Every single strike broke skin and droplets of blood rolled off of the whip and splashed onto the floor and walls as it snapped through the air. And yet the strikes of the whip on his own back didn't feel nearly as bad as it looked on Vincent's, though from his peripheral vision, he could see his own blood rolling off of the whip swinging behind him too.

And Vincent was reacting too much, making more noise than Sephiroth had ever heard from him, and he was writhing and straining against his bonds.

Sephiroth knew well the stubborn gunman's ungodly pain tolerance, and though the whipping was painful, it wasn't something that should be bringing out such a reaction from the ex-Turk.

It was not to say however, that the ex-Turk's performance was over-done and easily seen through. In fact, his act is rather a convincing one. People who do not know Vincent Valentine, his unholy stubbornness and pain-tolerance, would not suspect that anything was amiss at all. Especially if said people have not had to themselves feign pain before.

Well then. Sephiroth let his body quiver with the next strike. Though Hojo and his trainers had vigorously trained him to hide his expressions of pain and weakness, during his days in the labs he had still, on occasion, played up his pain, grimaced and screamed and writhed and panted, to annoy them and scare the lab assistants, and perhaps throw off a test result or two. He'd be punished, of course, but it was not as if they ever stopped hurting him no matter what he did anyway. And on the battlefields of Wutai, he sometimes had to feign pain and injury as part of a strategy to fool the enemy soldiers into lowering their guards, or to simply stop his own soldiers from staring at him with awe and fear in their eyes.

It's been a while since he'd last done this though, but Sephiroth was confident that he could still put up a convincing act, even one that could rival that of the ex-Turk. He let out a choked sound at the next strike, and saw Vincent glance over at him at that. Then he let out another grunt and strained dramatically in his bonds at the next strike, and he could be mistaken, but he thought he might have seen the corner of Vincent's lips quirk up a little. Then the ex-Turk let his head drop down and gave a loud moan at the next strike on his back.

And then it was on.

Sephiroth bit off a choked gasp at the next strike, then let out a shaky exhale as he let his body slump in defeat in his chains.

Let the stubborn Turk _try_ to out-do _that_ performance.

Time passed with Sephiroth barely noticing, so absorbed was he in his "competition" with Vincent. But by the time the whipping stopped, his back really did throb and the shivers running through his body wasn't 100% feigned, and he could feel warm liquid running down his back.

Two pigeon maids then came over and pressed a cold glass each to their backs, then left for the Archdaemons.

Sephiroth could not see them behind him, chained as he was, but he heard demon-ShinRa cough as he downed the liquor that was offered him.

"Packs a bit of a punch, doesn't it?" he heard Tah'rh's voice comment lightly.

"...The famed Red Dancer of the Inner Circles certainly lives up to its name." a somewhat more raspy version of demon-ShinRa's voice answered.

"Would you like some more?"

"No, no." demon-ShinRa then coughed again to clear his throat, "Pardon me for being in a hurry but, we DO have an appointment with the 6th today. Would you mind if we borrow your dressing rooms for a moment? My chamberlain's clothes seem to be a bit stained from the tea..."

"Of course. His clothes do look...quite wet." Sephiroth could hear the grin in Tah'rh's voice.

And then came the sounds of the demons exiting the room, then the closing of doors, leaving only Vincent and Sephiroth, the Punishers and Albert and some pigeon maids in the room.

Albert, pragmatic and efficient as always, quickly set the pigeon maids to work, directing them to clean up the cups and utensils and move the chairs and tables back to their proper places, and wipe up the blood that was splattered on the floor and walls.

Sephiroth leaned heavily against the pillar. It didn't hurt as much as he expected, given the dramatic appearance of the Punishers, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. He shifted his body a little, experimentally, and found that though his back protested at the movement, the injury seemed to be only skin-deep. If he could but will himself to ignore the pain — which would not be that difficult for him — then the powerful muscles on his back could still move just fine.

He was caught off-guard when something round and strong-smelling pressed upon his lips. Instinctively he flinched away. His eyes darted up to see one of the Punishers holding up what looked like a small brown ball.

"Eat," said the black-cloaked figure, his voice that of a young, adult male, cold but not unpleasant, but entirely unfamiliar to Sephiroth, "it will numb the pain and stop the bleeding."

Sephiroth only frowned at him in response. With the Archdaemons and their posse gone, the Punishers seemed to have dropped their dramatic, intimidating aura, and not only that, they didn't even seem to be physically as big as before, though they were still tall. Sephiroth had assumed that they were demons, but now that this one that was trying to feed him the small brown ball was standing so close in the much quieter, much emptier room, he could feel something...different...about him.

"Fear not," said the Punisher, sounding somewhat amused, "I've no reason to poison you today."

As if that made the strange brown ball look or smell any more appealing.

A strange "cooing" sound drew the former general's attention however, and he turned his head slightly to see some of the pigeon maids...sobbing as they wiped at the blood splatters around him and Vincent. One of them gently dabbed at a trail of blood running down one of Vincent's legs with a washcloth, carefully avoiding his wounds, wiping at her eyes all the while. And the ex-Turk, in an attempt to sooth, gently smiled down at her in reassurance that he was alright.

Sephiroth looked back at the Punisher when the brown ball was once again pressed against his lips.

"Eat." he repeated, his voice somewhat softer.

Sephiroth considered the odd being in front of him for a few more moments, the finally, reluctantly, parted his lips.

The brown ball tasted exactly as bad as it smelled. Sephiroth didn't think he had made that much of a face, but nonetheless, the Punisher chuckled knowingly at him.

"The more unpleasant the taste, the more effective the medicine." he said, as if soothing a small child.

Sephiroth snorted at him, and chewed at the sticky, gooey mess that the ball had disintegrated into. Almost immediately after he swallowed some of that disgusting mess however, his pain lessened, and there seemed to be less warm liquid running down his back. The Punisher smirked smugly — Sephiroth knew he was, even though his face was still completely hidden under his hood. He then sauntered off to give Vincent the same medicine.

Vincent accepted the medicine with as much — or as little fanfare as he did everything else, and Sephiroth watched, fascinated, as the ex-Turk's back immediately stopped bleeding right before his eyes.

The poison of the Agonia plant was still in their wounds however, and their healing were slow, very very slow.

"Should we take them down from those pillars?" the Punisher who gave them the medicine turned to Albert and asked, "Or do you think we better wait until the old fool's gone?"

"It is safer to remain vigilant until he has left the Circle." answered the crow butler, and the Punisher nodded, then walked out of Sephiroth's field of view, presumably to join the other Punisher, who had been completely silent and somewhere out of Sephiroth's sight this whole time.

"Their wolf-youkai..." a pigeon maid — Edelle, Sephiroth noted, recognizing her voice — suddenly asked warily, "...did he notice...?"

"Hmm..." Albert hummed as he considered the question, "he did seem to react when he caught your scent. Perhaps your skills have become blunt, fox."

The medicine-Punisher, as Sephiroth had decided to temporarily name him, snorted, "There is nothing 'blunt' about my skills, crow. It wasn't me he smelled; it was him."

A slight rustle of fabrics. Sephiroth guessed that he must have gestured at the other Punisher.

The other Punisher didn't immediately retaliate at the accusation, but remained silent and contemplative. When he finally spoke, his voice too, was that of a young adult male, cold, like that of the medicine-Punisher, but somewhat deeper. Also unfamiliar.

"That wolf-youkai... He might have been from my world."

"So you know each other..." the other Punisher commented thoughtfully.

"We've only met in passing, but...I would not be surprised if he knows my scent."

"Canid youkai indeed live up to the reputation..." mused Albert, "to be able to pick up a barely familiar scent even with your disguise and the Agonia...you must have left quite an impression in that meeting."

"Or perhaps that wolf youkai is more familiar with your brother's scent?" asked the medicine-Punisher, meaningfully.

Another pause of silence. And the room seemed a little bit colder somehow.

"...Perhaps." the other Punisher finally said, voice laced with ice, "However, he also could have been another one from another world, you informed me of the possibility yourself."

Then, a pause and a sigh.

"But...I imagine it would not make enough of a difference to that idiot."

A chuckle, from the medicine-Punisher, "Family can be such a pain sometimes, right?"

And the room got a bit colder again, but the medicine-Punisher continued his musings, undaunted.

"The canid bodyguard of Archdaemon Shin'Ra huh? You might be staying with us for a while yet."

Another silence.

"...This Archdaemon of yours, she will keep her promise?" the other Punisher quietly asked after a long pause.

"She's not _my_ Archdaemon," replied the medicine-Punisher, "but Tah'rh does what she says."

"Speaking of the mistress," said Albert, "I've just been informed that she will be returning shortly."

"You're not putting away the tea set, Albert?" asked the medicine-Punisher.

"No," said the crow, "I believe my employer would prefer them here when she returns, however much she will regret it later."

The medicine-Punisher chuckled, "They do look expensive. And still you're putting this room back in such neat order?"

"It is my job to do my part as butler to the utmost of my abilities." answered Albert, his voice as monotoned and emotionless as always.

The medicine-Punisher chucked again, a rustling of fabrics that suggested he might be shaking his head, "Ever professional, as always."

It seemed like Albert was going to answer him, but stopped. Sephiroth shifted a little in his chains. The room had suddenly began to feel warmer...and warmer, with each passing moment, until...

BANG!

The doors of the tea room swung open and slammed into the walls.

Sephiroth craned his neck to see, judging that a slave would have plenty of excuse to do so in this situation, without looking to be actively spying on his superiors.

Tah'rh stood at the doorway, her rage rolling off her in almost-visible waves. Tseng and Reno were close behind her as always, though this time they seemed to be standing a bit farther away from their sovereign than usual.

"Archdaemon," Albert greeted with a polite nod, "I assume that the Archdaemon of the 4th has safely departed our realm?"

"He has." Tah'rh nodded, "Safely." then added darkly, "For now."

Tseng gently cleared his throat behind her while Reno snorted a sound of agreement. She then took in a deep breath, forcing herself to calm, and as she breathed out with a long sigh, the heat rolling off of her lessened dramatically.

"Neither you nor old Shin'Ra has changed much, I see." commented the medicine-Punisher, amusement clear in his voice.

"Is that a good thing?" Tah'rh sighed somewhat tiredly.

"We thank you sincerely for your help." Tseng bowed politely to the Punishers.

"Ah yes," said Tah'rh, "Thanks Kurama, Sesshomaru. I owe you one."

By this time both Punishers have taken off their hoods, and Sephiroth could now see that they both indeed appeared to be young men, no older than Vincent's or his own physical age.

The one addressed as "Kurama" was the "medicine-Punisher". He had large silver-furred fox ears sitting atop his head, much like how Fenris had black-furred wolf ears. The one addressed as "Sesshomaru" had pointed, human-like ears and colourful, animalistic markings on his face. As soon as they took off their hoods, they no longer felt like demons, but were unmistakably youkai.

Both youkai had long silver hair and yellow eyes, with Sesshomaru's having cat-like slitted pupils. It occurred to the silver general that those physical traits might be very common in the Axis, given how many people he had already seen with those traits. It was strange to think of them that way, "common", after his own silver hair and slitted pupils had set him apart from everyone so much and for so long.

These two "Punishers", though, Sephiroth had seen them before: he had had a glimpse of them disappearing into a hallway right when Cissnei brought him and Vincent to Tah'rh after hearing of Archdaemon Shin'Ra's arrival. They were the representatives from Spirit Realm that Tah'rh had been meeting with right before the 4th Circle delegation's sudden appearance.

"As long as you keep your word, Archdaemon." Sesshomaru said coldly.

Now that the youkai was standing so close to Sephiroth, with his disguises dropped, the former general noticed that there's something about Sesshomaru that felt...familiar, somehow, though he could not say what.

"Pfft! Of course!" Tah'rh snorted and rolled her eyes.

Kurama smirked at both Tah'rh and Sesshomaru before taking a step forward, "As much as I'd love to stay and catch up on old times, Tah'rh, it is time for us to take our leave."

"Ah, yes, sorry to have kept you for so long" Tah'rh grimaced apologetically, then gestured to Tseng and Reno, "Tseng and Reno will show you to the dock. Nami's already there, she'll show you the best route out of here. No one knows the Current flow of this Circle like she does, she drew and updated most of the maps for it, actually. No prying eyes will catch you with her guiding you. I'd come with you but, I have...things...to do here."

Her last words darkened, similar to when she had talked about Shin'Ra.

Kurama grinned knowingly, then nodded his farewell.

"Until next time then, Tah'rh." he said, then turned his golden, calculating gaze to Sephiroth and Vincent, still chained to the pillars, "And perhaps we will meet again too, hopefully under better circumstances."

Sesshomaru too, glanced at the two chained men momentarily, before following Kurama, Tseng and Reno out of the tea room and out of Sephiroth's sight.

Tah'rh stood where she was and watched them leave, then after a while, turned to the ones who still remained in the room.

"Albert, maids, take them down from those damned pillars and wait outside." she ordered quietly.

The crow and pigeons nodded and hurried to their task without a word. They unchained Vincent and Sephiroth from the pillars, draped clean, soft blankets carefully and protectively over their shoulders, and ushered them out the doors. And once they were all outside, with Tah'rh being the only one left in the tea room, they closed the doors, backed up a few paces, and waited.

BOOM!

The ground shook, the doors of the tea room bent and creaked from the force that hit it, a wave of heat rolled from the gaps between the door and the walls and swept over the birds and humans that stood before it, along with the crystal screams of glass and porcelain as they shattered against the room's stone walls.

But it was over as quickly as it began, and soon everything was quiet again.

The poor abused doors slowly swung open and Tah'rh stepped out, with a somewhat satisfied look on her face. A thing or two was on fire behind her in the room, but she paid them no mind.

"You two, come with me." she commanded the two men, then walked off without waiting to see if they would follow.

Sephiroth and Vincent shared an uncertain glance, then, at the urging of the pigeon maids, followed Tah'rh as were told.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Additional Disclaimers:** Sesshomaru of the manga and anime series "Inuyasha" belong to Rumiko Takahashi; Kurama of the manga and anime series "Yu Yu Hakusho" belong to Yoshihiro Togashi; Edel Blau ("Edelle" here) of the visual novel game "Hatoful Boyfriend" belong to Hato Moa. I don't own them, I don't make money off of them, I'm just borrowing them for this crazy world in my head :P


	22. Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** non-explicit sex. Not sure what else to warn for, but some stuff may be disturbing to some people, is all I can say :P Viewer discretion is advised.

Tah'rh led her slaves down the hall in complete silence, sparing neither words nor glances. Her tail, heavily decorated with an elaborate sequence of gold and jewelled rings, should have been held in a low, graceful, dignified curve from a slit that split the back of her robes, and should have been complemented by the layers of embroidered cloth of said robes as they trailed and flowed behind her. The effect would have been beautiful and majestic. But at this moment, said tail was raised high and stiff in anger and agitation, and the colourful, expensive fabrics snapped and whipped about helplessly behind the Archdaemon's quick, snappy steps.

Vincent and Sephiroth saw no other soul while they followed Tah'rh through the palace halls, and only the sound of their own footsteps and the jingling of Tah'rh's jewelry bounced off the hallway walls.

They temporarily lost sight of her when she turned a corner, and when they caught up to her again, they saw that she was heading down a short hallway with a door at the end.

Sephiroth's silver brows furrowed. They had come this way, turned this corner from the tea room before, but they had never seen this hallway before. He glanced at Vincent, and saw a small frown on his face also.

The door at the end of the hallway opened on its own before Tah'rh even reached it, and the Archdaemon walked across its threshold without a break in her brisk pace, into a forest.

Vincent and Sephiroth followed warily, feeling the sudden change beneath their feet from smooth stone tiles of the palace flooring to rough dirt and soft moss of the forest floor.

It was evening, turning into night. In the rapidly darkening forest and thickening trees, Tah'rh continued on uninterrupted in her silence, and her quick, angry pace.

She kicked out a foot, and one of her finely embroidered shoes went flying into a bush. She kicked out her other foot, and the other shoe disappeared into the foliage also.

A sharp swish of her tail snapped through the air, and the pretty gold and jewelled rings that had adorned it were mercilessly ejected to scatter across tree trunks and rocks.

Her hair ornaments too, were yanked unceremoniously from her hair and went from decorating her red tresses to decorating the green leaves of the trees and bushes they passed.

The layers of her formal robes, heavy with jewels and gold and silver thread, glittered and shimmered like mournful butterflies as they fluttered through the air, and was left to dress the forest floor.

Tah'rh tossed away her last layer of white under-robe with as little regard for it as she did everything else, and was now covered in nothing but her own skin.

Sephiroth followed obediently behind her, feeling a slight sense of sympathy. He too had hated the formal meetings that he had to attend back when he was the Silver General of ShinRa, and the formal attire had never ceased to feel restrictive and ill-fitting, no matter how many compliments he received for "how good he looked" when he wore them. His SOLDIER uniform, made for free movement and durability, modified to his own preferences, was what he wore the most often, and what he felt the most himself in.

Beside him however, Vincent was slowing his steps, and so Sephiroth slowed also. He discreetly glanced at the ex-Turk with a questioning look, but Vincent wasn't looking at him. In fact, Vincent's attention was entirely focused on the naked Archdaemon before them, his body tense and his brow furrowed as he slowed almost to a stop. Strange that the ex-Turk was acting this way. Vincent had proven to be extremely adept at masking his own thoughts and emotions no matter the situation. He had been the picture of the perfectly obedient slave through all the meetings that they had had to attend — this latest one included. It was not like the cautious and calculating gunman to suddenly...rebel, like this, here, now. And so the former general also paused.

Tah'rh sensed the two men slowing behind her, and finally stopped the unrelenting pace of her walk. Sephiroth and Vincent stopped too, and watched her warily. She turned around and studied them with a frown, as if she was noticing something about them that displeased her, but couldn't figure out what.

"You should be naked." she suddenly said, as if she had finally figured out what the problem was. Then, after a slight pause: "Why aren't you naked?"

Beside him, Sephiroth felt Vincent immediately tense and draw back, hands tightening around the blanket given to them by the pigeon maids that was his and Sephiroth's only article of clothing.

At the small movement of attempted escape, Tah'rh's frown turned into a scowl. She let out an impatient growl, and before Sephiroth could blink, tackled Vincent to the ground in a reddish blur. She pinned him under her and flipped him about expertly, as if the struggling ex-Turk were but a sack of potatoes, and rid him of his blanket with clinical efficiency, then she tossed the now buck-naked gunman over the dark silhouettes of the trees the same way she had tossed her clothes. Then she turned her dark red glare to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth's mind immediately flashed to the field medics on the Wutai battlefields — field medics that had had to deal with headstrong and prideful young men of SOLDIER and troopers alike on a daily basis, and he wondered briefly if it was worth the effort to try to tell the glaring Archdaemon that she didn't need to tackle him, or undress him, or toss him. Unlike his men, he never made trouble for those efficient, no-nonsense medics. Doctors and medical procedures were no news to him, and he saw no point in putting up a fight that would only be dismissed as macho facade anyway. And he had no protest against undressing or walking to whereever Tah'rh wanted on his own. But Tah'rh clearly had no patience in her at this moment, and had already begun to move.

The former general let out a small sign as he sailed through the air, and watched the trees speed past below him. He wasn't very surprised when the forest under him gave way to what looked like several pools of water, with white steam rising from them.

Hot springs. Huh.

He figured that the Archdaemon had a very specific destination in mind for her slaves. Given their current bloodied state and her tossing them, he had guessed that she was heading for a body of water to give them a wash. But he had to admit, he hadn't expected hot springs.

Below him, he could see that Vincent had already landed in the largest of the pools, and had already started to move towards the edge of the pool. Sephiroth curled himself into a ball and rolled into his landing, hearing the air and water rush past his ears, and braced himself for the sting that the hot water was sure to bring to his still-raw back.

But the sting never came. His back only throbbed gently, painlessly, the rushing water warm and pleasant against his wounds. ... _Very_ pleasant. Sephiroth could practically feel his wounds knitting themselves closed. The usual unpleasant itching sensation of healing wounds was felt, and yet even that wasn't quite as...unpleasant as it should have been. The water seemed to sooth that also. Marvelling, Sephiroth uncurled himself like a cat in sunlight, and glided with the leftover force of his landing, letting the water carry him to the surface.

A small distance away, Vincent had settled himself in a shallow part of the pool near the edge, his expression was also one of amazement and wonder. Sephiroth watched the ex-Turk move about carefully, experimentally, testing the feel of the water as it washed over his pale skin.

Then something reddish streaked from the sky into their peripheral vision, and landed in the pool with a great splash.

Tah'rh huffed a great sigh of contentment when she broke the surface, then she dove under it again to reappear near the shallow edge of the pool and settled in it also.

"The Seven Springs," she introduced to her slaves while she languidly splashed water over her arms and shoulders, "the water here interact directly with the main Current that flow through the Circle, which grants it special healing properties. It cures just about anything: aspergillosis, psittacosis, greyscale, pokérus...everything except the common cold, oddly enough... But it speeds healing and recovery for everything that it can't cure right away."

"Why...? Why are you doing this? ...Healing us?" asked Vincent, his surprise breaking through his usual Stoic-Turk mask.

"Because it's the only thing I _can_ do." growled Tah'rh as she splashed some spring water on her face and rubbed the fatigue and frustration from her eyes.

" _Archdaemon_ , ha!" she scoffed in disgust, "The most elite of the elites of Hell and _this_ is the only thing I can do! If I were as I was before...a nobody...then I would have just flown up that stupid phallic tower of his and _murdered_ him in his sleep!"

Sephiroth assumed that the "he" she was talking about was Archdaemon Shin'Ra.

"No...better do it when he's awake, and fully aware. And drive a long, loooong blade slowly through his non-existent heart...right as he sits in his office at the top of that tower that he's so proud of..." Tah'rh continued muttering, indulging in the imagining of various scenarios of gruesome death for her enemy.

Perceiving no threat from the muttering Archdaemon, and seeing no signs of her directing her anger onto her slaves, Sephiroth moved his attentions to searching for a comfortable spot to settle down. He found a good-sized rock, warm and weathered smooth under the water. It sat conveniently in a shallow place he found, a bit closer to both Tah'rh and Vincent, and once the former general settled onto it to let the warm spring water soak soothingly into his healing skin, he simply waited, patiently, while Tah'rh continued her tirade.

"...No, that'd still be too efficient, too quick for that old bastard! Better to use some ridiculously inefficient blunt object and bludgeon him to death with it! Like a...like a...a teacup! Ha! Now _that'd_ be fitting... Oh BLOOD AND FIRE! I just smashed a 50 Jin tea set!" Tah'rh moaned into her hands in extreme regret.

"...Stupid pompous coward! This is all his fault! Constantly going on about Undying this Undying that. If he's so _concerned_ about an Undying ruling as Archdaemon, then he could very well just challenge me for the Claim! I'm friggin' _waiting_ for him, right here. But noooo..."

"What is an 'Undying'?" Sephiroth chanced to ask. Vincent's crimson eyes darted to him at his bold interruption, then to the Archdaemon.

"It's exactly what it says it is," Tah'rh answered flatly, "it means we're a bitch to kill. And..." she growled as she crossed her arms and glared at nothing, "even when we _do_ get killed, we break off into a million pieces that _still_ somehow manage to fly up everyone's _ass_!"

"What's this about asses?" interrupted an amused voice.

Sephiroth had hoped to get some more information out of Tah'rh, but had to abandon the opportunity when Reno strolled in from the surrounding trees.

"An efficient way to summon you, apparently." Tah'rh snorted, then grinned at the captain of her guards in welcome, and instead of turning her head and body towards him, she simply laid back against the bank of the pool and let her head fall backwards to regard him up-side-down.

Vincent's red eyes flickered, ever calculating, over Tah'rh's exposed, vulnerable neck and her fully relaxed pose, then up at Reno as he knelt and bent down before his Archdaemon, equally relaxed and unguarded, and gave her a deep, up-side-down kiss.

"Feeling a bit better I see?" he grinned playfully at her when they broke their kiss, both of them a little out of breath.

"Hn. Off." Tah'rh pinched the collar of Reno's uniform and gave it a sharp tug, her intent clear.

"And not wasting words tonight I see." Reno arched a flame red eyebrow.

"I've wasted enough words tonight talking about nothing, with idiots that also talked a crap ton of nothing," Tah'rh huffed, "and the same yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before. Blood and Fire! If I could collect all the words wasted in the past few weeks, and sell them all for but a Yem each, I'd have enough money to waste to paint Fae Gold filigree onto every single...damned..."

Reno simply let her rant on while he shrugged off his Captain of the Archdaemon's Guards uniform, and swung his lithe, pale form gracefully into the spring.

"...inanimate...object...in the...Circle..." Tah'rh slowly finished, eyes raking up and down Reno's body, not at all hiding her appreciation.

"Well Boss, looks like you're a little speechless now." Reno smirked smugly as he not-so-subtly ran a hand through his now damp red hair. Droplets of water splashed onto his shoulder and rolled down his naked body.

"Cheeky bastard." Tah'rh huffed and then reached forward to tug the other redhead onto her lap, "Shut up and sit."

"Yes, my lord." Reno answered teasingly with exaggerated, sarcastic formality. With graceful ease, he swung a leg over Tah'rh's thighs, and sank down onto her lap without an ounce of hesitation or shame.

As soon as he sat down, Tah'rh snaked a hand under the water between them, and Reno stiffened and arched with a hiss.

"What did I just tell you to do?" She grinned imperiously at the captain of her guards in her lap.

Reno sighed dramatically and relaxed back in his "seat", and grinned back at his Archdaemon. His playful pale gaze held Tah'rh's dark red, but he did not say a word.

"Good." Tah'rh murmured. Not breaking eye contact, her hand under the water began to slowly move.

Reno arched once more, this time in pure pleasure. He gently rocked his hips to Tah'rh's movements and let out a small moan, and Tah'rh slid her other hand into his flame red hair to pull him in for another long, deep kiss.

"Reno, didn't you have something important to discuss with our Archdaemon?" interrupted a flat, unamused voice.

Vincent and Sephiroth looked up to see Tseng walk in from the surrounding forests also.

Reno sighed a little as he reluctantly broke the kiss.

"Sex is important!" Tah'rh protested.

Tseng sighed.

"Unless Shin'Ra has hauled his rotting ass back here for some worm-eaten reason, it can wait." Tah'rh growled, her hands went down and around Reno's body and grabbed onto him impatiently.

"Ummf! Usually I'd agree, Boss, but..." Reno shut his eyes for a moment to re-focus, then leaned forward to whisper something in Tah'rh's ear.

At this distance, Vincent and Sephiroth could easily have heard what was whispered, yet they heard nothing, not even the hisses of air that rushed between lips and teeth. Some sort of spell? Wondered Vincent. From the angle that he and Sephiroth sat, and from how close Reno had rested his head against Tah'rh's, Vincent knew that neither he nor Sephiroth could get a clear view to read his lips.

"Oh? Interesting..." mused Tah'rh when Reno finished with whatever he was reporting.

"Well, I'd say that's _good_ news. What are you so concerned about, Tseng?" Tah'rh grinned as she turned to her First Councillor, "All in all I'd say we've done quite well for the evening."

"'Done well'?" one of Tseng's ebony brows raised, "You mean all but declared war on 4th Circle?"

"Declared war? I don't remember declaring any wars." Tah'rh looked up at the crouching Tseng and gave him her best "I'm innocent" look.

Tseng was having none of that however, and levelled her with a stern glare: "The Red Dancer was served to our most important guests, yes — our _war allies_ , coloured with the blood of our defeated or enslaved enemies. The reason the ritual of serving the Red Dancer hasn't been used for centuries, is because the Inner Circles haven't participated in a war for centuries. Saying that you wouldn't mind starting the ritual again is as good as saying you wouldn't mind starting a war. But were you planning to tell me that you had conveniently forgotten the primary use of the Red Dancer? Well even if you have forgotten that piece of our history, it would certainly have _not_ passed the notice of Archdaemon Shin'Ra, nor any other self-respecting demon lord!"

"Well, Shin'Ra with his infinitely sharp memory certainly seems to 'conveniently forget' _my_ history whenever it suits him!" Tah'rh retorted hotly, "That old man has been doing his utmost best to provoke us since I became Archdaemon! Does he think we will not dare fight him no matter how hard he pushed? I remember the last time he visited he had all but straight out accused you of overstepping your authority and ruling 7th Circle through a puppet ruler — me. Did you actually take his words to heart? Don't think I haven't noticed that you were unusually quiet this meeting! In fact you've been rather quiet for all the meetings since that visit!" Tah'rh glared accusingly at her First Councillor.

Tseng's countenance immediately softened at that.

"I'm sorry Tah'rh," he said softly, "I have not been much help to you lately. Archdaemon Shin'Ra's words are always spoken with ill intent and should never be trusted," he sighed, "but there is some truth in them. I _have_ been overstepping my authority and doing more than I should for one of my position."

"What the FUCK?" Tah'rh protested in outrage, "Are you _seriously_ listening to shit spewed from old crappers now? Have you forgotten how we started? Have you forgotten our agreement? I _meant_ what I said back then and I still mean it now! Don't you DARE tell me that you are having second thoughts!"

At Tah'rh's outburst, Tseng smiled, fondly, as if at an old memory, "I have forgotten nothing, Tah'rh. I do not believe I can forget even if I try. Shin'Ra...simply made me see some things that I have been blind to. His words were meant to poison with doubt, yet no matter what he said, you never doubted, not in me, nor in yourself."

"...But you do?" Tah'rh frowned.

Strange, Vincent thought as he observed quietly. This should have been a very dangerous situation for the First Councillor. One wrong word here and he could be ruined and/or dead. That was how political games worked, as the ex-Turk had observed through his short but eventful career. And yet, that familiar charge of underlying threat was absent from the atmosphere. In fact, all three demons were still very much relaxed, and Tah'rh's unhappy frown looked more fitting on the face of a sulking child than on an angry sovereign.

Tseng shook his head, "Not in the way that Shin'Ra intended."

And before Tah'rh could interrupt, he continued: "I don't think it'll surprise you if I admit that when the Circle chose you as our next Archdaemon, and when we made our agreement, I didn't exactly hold high expectations."

And here he paused to let Tah'rh answer with a wry huff.

"Not only in your abilities to be the Archdaemon that we need you to be, but also in your sincerity in upholding your part of the agreement," Tseng continued, more quietly now, "but you did uphold your part of the agreement, very much so, and perhaps even more. And Shin'Ra's words have made me see that I have been lacking in upholding my part of our agreement."

Tah'rh blinked in confusion, but Tseng continued on.

"The Circle chose you, and I too chose you, to be our Archdaemon. Yes you are certainly the most..."

"Bull-headed? Erratic? Pain in the ass?" chirped Reno, still sitting on the Archdaemon, who gave him a sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow.

"...troublesome Archdaemon I have ever had the pleasure to serve, but you have never given me reason to regret our choice. And now, I realize that I have been casting too much undeserved doubt upon you. I have taken on more duties than a First Councillor normally would...not for the reasons I should. Not for our agreement, not for my duty to support my Archdaemon, but for doubt. If you feel that I have been...silent lately, it is not because I was holding back for the benefit of Shin'Ra or his poisoned tongue. Far from it. It is because I no longer doubt my chosen Archdaemon."

Tah'rh's red eyes widened a bit at that, but then she scowled, "You're just saying that. You're doing that...words...thing that you nobility or whatever do."

"That I am not." Tseng replied simply and calmly.

Tah'rh stared at her First Councillor, then she turned quickly away from Tseng and scoffed, her face a little pink, "Pssht! Weren't you just scolding me for almost starting a war just moments ago? And look!" she waved an arm at Vincent and Sephiroth, "I'm bathing my slaves in the Seven Springs! I'm surprised that you haven't scolded me on _that_ yet!"

Tseng gave a small shrug, "There is no rule or law of etiquette that forbid the Archdaemon from bathing slaves in the Seven Springs. It has simply not been done, is all."

Tah'rh gaped incredulously at him, then had to turn back around to glare at Reno when the redhead started to chortle uncontrollably.

"Hey hey, I've nothing against you bathing them here either." Reno put his hands up in a placating gesture for his bristling Archdaemon, "We have to close these places off and guard them from 'unauthorized persons' every time we get these high-class people visiting anyways. I'm just happy that we aren't just standing here staring at all this nature for once. Not that the scenery is bad around here, just that it's prettier with people in it, you know." the Captain of the Guards gave a playful wink.

"It's just some stupid tradition," Tah'rh scoffed, "that all the top Circle resorts are to be closed off in case I want to treat my guests to one of them — which I never do. I'd rather not put on this 'Archdaemon show' for any longer than I have to, thank you very much! I'd tell you to stop wasting all this energy and manpower and go get drunk somewhere, but _somebody_ disagreed."

"And as your advisor, I will continue to disagree on this matter." Tseng returned Tah'rh's glare with a stern look of his own.

"WHAT? You mean I _could_ have been gloriously drunk and passed out in some hole in who-knows-where right now?" Reno wailed accusingly at Tseng, and received a glare from the First Councillor also.

"I would think that your current marginally cognizant state of mind and respectable whereabouts is an improvement." Tseng bit out.

Reno smirked and lazily wrapped his long arms around Tah'rh's neck.

"True, this _does_ have its perks too." he grinned at his sovereign.

"Oh am I a 'perk' now?" Tah'rh raised one red brow.

"You kidding me? My evening had a possible ending of guarding some empty springs, or guarding _Shin'Ra_ in said springs," Reno gave a dramatic shudder, "or getting passed-out drunk and waking up not knowing where I am or how I got there, which as fun as it sounds, is not gonna happen as long as we got Tseng here being all nice and responsible."

And that didn't _quite_ get an eye-roll out of Tseng, but it was close.

"Or, it could end with me sitting here guarding my favourite Archdaemon..." Reno not-so-subtly nudged himself closer to Tah'rh on her lap, "...closely. And _that's_ certainly a _perk_ in my book."

Tah'rh laughed and wrapped her arms around Reno, and gave a sharp tug that had Reno groaning as their bodies pressed even closer together, "Why, you work so _hard_ , Captain! Well, you're not pointlessly guarding empty springs this night, and I'd rather have this ridiculously un-sexy image of old Shin'Ra soaking in here purged from my mind..."

"Mmm...I'll gladly help ya with that, Boss." Reno's voice lowered as he brushed his lips seductively along his Archdaemon's throat, heedless of their present audience. And Tah'rh responded with equal lack of shame.

Tseng sighed again at the rutting pair, and stood up to leave.

Before he could finish his first step however, Tah'rh slapped a palm onto the bank of the pool and the ground underneath Tseng suddenly vanished under him and became an extension of the pool. The First Councillor could do nothing but fall with as much dignity as he could hold onto, into the warm water that now replaced the ground beneath him.

"Tah'rh..." he growled as he sputtered and splashed to the surface.

"What?" Tah'rh purred, smug and unapologetic, "You were just going to head to your work desk and sit there until morning anyway. Staying here instead is a _much_ better option. The water's nice, see?" She swirled two of her fingers in the water around her with an innocent look on her face, and the water around Tseng began to twirl and dance and lap playfully against glowering First Councillor.

"After this evening's events, we'll have much work ahead of us. I strongly think it is best if I start- Mmmf!" Tseng started to protest, but Reno had slithered through the water quick as a water snake, and ambushed the councillor with a hungry kiss. Tah'rh too leapt from her seat, and together the two redheads trapped the still protesting Tseng between their naked bodies, ran their hands insistently over him, expertly stripping him of his waterlogged clothes and burying his protests under their passionate kisses.

And they purred in victory when the First Councillor of 7th Circle finally let out a helpless moan in their arms.

Tseng sighed in defeat, "...Alright. Fine. But..."

In a lightning fast move, he turned them all around and pinned both redheads between his body and the new edge of the pool, and gave them both a pointed glare, "NO 'new ideas' this time! Not after what you pulled last time..."

"Hey! That was an accident!" protested Reno while Tah'rh simply gave her best "I'm innocent" look again and held up her hands in placation.

Not waiting for whatever else that might have come out of the two redheads' mouths, Tseng crushed his lips to Reno's, and then began — perhaps a little bit vengefully — to kiss the air from his lungs. At first Tah'rh simply watched, her purr loud and vibrating the water around them. Then, in a surprisingly coordinated move, both Tseng and Reno shot out an arm, wrapped it around their Archdaemon, and tugged her tight against their undulating bodies. With a laugh, Tah'rh wrapped her arms around both her lovers in return, and joined them in a messy, three-way kiss.

Sephiroth sat and watched the trio, a bit awkwardly. This was not the first time he witnessed such unabashed...public displays of affection from demons. And this was not the first time he witnessed such unabashed public displays of affection from Tah'rh and her councillors and bodyguards. Those other times, he and Vincent had only been passing by, on their way to somewhere or to do something. This time though...Sephiroth wondered if he and Vincent were supposed to sit in this pool and wait until the three demons were finished. The warm, healing waters of the hot spring were comfortable on his skin, and the wounds on his back seemed to be completely healed already, he couldn't even feel the tightness of newly healed skin anymore. However, from what he had seen, demons have quite a bit of stamina. If he and Vincent were unlucky, they could be sitting here until dawn.

... _If_ the demons' plan was to leave their slaves sitting there alone and out of their tryst... Sephiroth suddenly noticed the extremely tense way Vincent was holding himself and the dark thought flashed through his mind.

Tah'rh's earlier actions had reminded the former general so much of those field medics of the Wutai War, that he simply had not thought of anything else beyond those very familiar encounters. But had the Archdaemon really brought her slaves here to these springs for healing only? Considering the events of the day and all the pressure that Tah'rh had long been receiving to bed her slaves as soon as she is able, he had been extremely naive to have not thought of the possibility that Tah'rh might have had more in mind than a simple soak here for her slaves. Sephiroth cursed himself silently for making such an obvious oversight.

Vincent obviously had not made a similar oversight, and Sephiroth suddenly understood the ex-Turk's tense, almost paranoid behaviour since Tah'rh had led them out here.

Just then the intertwined trio became rougher, more passionate in their movements, somebody gave a shove, and somebody else gave a pleased grunt as they all crashed with a great splash in the shallows, right next to Vincent.

The ex-Turk immediately recoiled and stood up, his red eyes wide and tracking the demons' every movement, his entire body rigid and slightly backing away in readiness to fight or flee at the slightest provocation.

Not good.

Sephiroth cursed inwardly. The ex-Turk was good, very good at remaining calm and collected through the most outrageous environments and situations, but when something does set him on edge, he will suddenly turn from cool, calculating Turk to cornered wild animal — as Sephiroth had experienced first-hand a few times during their forced journey through Hell. The former general's thoughts went back to the night that Vincent first awakened on the slave ship, the fight they had on their first night in Tah'rh's palace, and a few, more subtle incidents during the "Duel & Screws".

Though Vincent had been able to quickly regain his senses most of the time and turn back to his quiet, cautious self, and he had not yet done something unsalvageable, (although it had been a VERY close call that night on the slave ship) it may not remain so if he happened to lash out at the three most powerful demons of 7th Hell.

Sephiroth stood too then, slowly, in an attempt to draw the ex-Turk's attention without drawing the demons'.

He froze however, when crimson eyes, flecked wildly with gold, snapped to him, and Vincent's tense, defensive stance jumped from facing the demons, to facing Sephiroth.

And so Sephiroth stood, frozen, as he watched a wide-eyed Vincent back away from him. And a terrible realization dawned on the silver general: Vincent was equally as afraid of the demons' intentions as he was of Sephiroth's. Perhaps even more. For the ex-Turk's wide, unblinking eyes were fully on Sephiroth now, completely ignoring the three demons that were closer to him.

The Turk's fear wasn't unreasonable. It was highly logical, in fact. The two of them HAD been enemies until but a short time ago, and they couldn't really be called "allies" now. Simply two men forced into an unfortunate situation together.

But facing those wide, gold-flecked red eyes here, now, seeing himself reflected in them, seeing the raw, unmistakeable fear in them...knowing what the owner of those eyes feared this silver-haired man might do... The once-soothing waters of the hot spring and the warm summer air of Hell suddenly felt like ice against Sephiroth's skin.

His feet started moving before he could stop them, driven by an overpowering urge to _LEAVE_ , to get away, away from the fear, the mistrust in those red eyes, away from that tense, accusing stance.

The silver general pushed himself onto the banks of the hot spring pool, and walked aimlessly into the surrounding trees. His mind barely registered the demons halting their movements and staring after him. He did not look back, did not stop least they try to stop him. He just needed to be...away.

To where? A small part of his mind asked. He did not know. He didn't really have anywhere to go. His limbs still felt like ice. He was wet and he was naked, and his innards felt like lead.

That would not do. The more logical part of his mind admonished. He must go somewhere where he can recuperate, regroup, tend to his injuries.

...Injuries...? Where was he injured? How was he injured? The injuries from the whipping should be completely healed by now. It did not make sense.

He was disoriented, he became vaguely aware of that fact, and injured...somehow. He must first find a safe hideout. Safe. Where? Where was he?

Unknown world, 7th Circle of Hell, City of Gold, Archdaemon's palace.

Where could he be safe here? That little suite that he had been sleeping in since arriving here?

In Sephiroth's mind's eye he saw the comfortable little suite, its sparse but tasteful furnitures, that homey little porch with the rocking chair that Fah'yn had recently added. That small but well-stocked kitchen that Vincent had been cooking in, filling the whole place with a rich, delicious smell. Some of that smell still lingered, though the gunman himself never did. The single bedroom they had was cold, neither of them had ever slept in it. Sephiroth knew that Vincent would never set foot in it if he thought Sephiroth might be in it, so Sephiroth never used it either. The rocking chair on the porch too, had never seen use. It still rocked and creaked sometimes, with only the wind relaxed and carefree enough to rest upon its smooth wooden seat.

And there it was creaking gently, empty before him, on that silent porch that appeared suddenly before the former general from the parting trees. In the confused state of mind he was in, Sephiroth did not question it, but simply opened the glass doors and stepped inside.

It was just as empty and sparsely furnished as it was in his mind's eye. Is it safe here? Is he safe now? What should he do now?

For a moment Sephiroth simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to find what he was doing there.

_My son..._

A gentle whisper brushed his mind, a chill slithered up his spine, and instantly, clarity tore sharply through the former general's befuddled mind.

Sephiroth gasped and stumbled, his arms flailing out to steady himself, and he crashed clumsily against the kitchen counters.

_No!_

He screamed into his mind.

_My son, oh how it pains me to see you so. So lost. So hurt..._

Sephiroth forced long, slow, deep breaths in and out of his lungs, trying to ignore that gentle voice caressing his mind, trying to just... _think_.

_Come to mother, mother will make it all better..._

Of course, he was looking for somewhere "safe" to go, and of course it was to _her_. Sephiroth thought bitterly. At first, when he was much, much younger in the labs, when he was hurting, he would find some dark room, some dark corner, where he can hide alone, and imagine long, soft hair, gentle hands, gentle voice, beautiful, smiling eyes — fantasies of what his mother might be like. Then the whispers started. Unintelligible at first. Then the words came. And he would go to those soft, gentle words, every time. Until he found their source in Niebelheim.

And now _she_ was claiming him back, bit by bit. Just as how he had been calling his sword Masamune closer, bit by bit through the maze of distance and dimensions that separated them. But Masamune belonged to him, just as he belonged to Jenova. He had been feeling her presence growing stronger and stronger, her voice almost imperceptible whispers but definitely getting louder. It was only a matter of time. And now his time was up.

Sephiroth felt a wild, deranged laugh bubbling from his chest, and he did not fight it. It burst out of him unhindered and echoed unendingly off the empty walls around him. What a fool was he! Fleeing into a forest because that paranoid Turk still thought of him as that mad murderer that had nearly destroyed the planet. And here he was, being forced to see the cold hard truth that the Turk had been right all along! He was destined to become that madman, no matter how hard he tried to convince Vincent, and himself, otherwise.

_Come to me, my son..._

_No!_

Sephiroth roared into his mind, collecting himself again after the echoing laughter died down. If fate wanted him, then it would have to come over here and drag him. He will NOT meekly give up and make it easy for whatever powers that played him like a toy. Inside his head, Jenova chuckled fondly, gently admonishing him for being childish.

Childish and futile his struggles may be, it was the only thing he _could_ do. And oh how his fury burned at that. But he was a warrior, a fighter, trained all his life to be one. If fighting is the only thing he can do, then he will fight until the end.

_Oh my sweet child, but there is so much, so much more that you can do! Come, mother will show you... You are so much, so much more..._

Jenova sang her siren song as she dug her tendrils into his mind and gently _tugged_.

Sephiroth gritted his teeth and gripped the kitchen counter so hard that it started to creak under his fingers.

It won't be long now. She was getting stronger and he couldn't resist for much longer. But still he stubbornly fought. Louder and louder her song grew, singing to him of flight, of freedom, all the vast emptiness of space, laid out before him for him to traverse at will...

_But I will not be free, not ever, with you_

She sang to him of glory, of power, of having everything he's ever dreamed of.

_But that is not what I dream of, not what I want._

Tell me my son, what you want. Mother loves you, mother will give it all to you.

_I want..._

Sephiroth faltered. Strange images flitted through his mind. Some mundane, some wild and adventurous, peoples, faces, places... Sephiroth recognized some of them as memories he had seen from the souls that were in the Lifestream, and some of them were memories of his own, of all the different things that he had seen and done since falling into Hell. Alongside Vincent.

"Sephiroth."

A soft voice cut though all the colours and images and Jenova's music, and suddenly everything fell quiet.

Sephiroth's eyes snapped open to the same dark empty walls that he had been looking at moments before, not remembering when he had closed his eyes. For a moment he stayed very still, listening carefully, but hearing...nothing. Jenova's presence was there, she was _always_ there. But she was silent, distant once more.

"Sephiroth?" the voice inquired again, sounding unsure.

Slowly, still not quite believing the sudden silence in his mind, Sephiroth turned to an equally hard-to-believe sight: Vincent was there, standing in the glass doors that opened to the porch, one hand still holding onto the door frame as if unsure whether he should leave or come farther in.

Without thinking, Sephiroth spun around, grabbed the pale gunman by the arm and pulled. His mind didn't quite question the speed with which he moved, and he hadn't meant to practically fling the slender man into the room, but at this moment, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

Vincent's back hit the wall with a quiet thud, but the ex-Turk was no delicate thing, Sephiroth knew, and he shamelessly exploited the ex-Turk's moment of surprise to pin the deceptively frail-looking body with his own.

Vincent recovered from his surprise within seconds, and his red eyes focused and his body tensed in preparation for a counter attack.

Sephiroth felt desperation bubbling up in his chest, an uncomfortable feeling that he was not accustomed to. He was not at his peak at this moment he knew, with his battle with Jenova draining him of his strength and lingering confusion clouding his mind. If Vincent were to fight him in earnest here, now, the former general wasn't certain that he could keep the ex-Turk subdued.

"Stay!" Sephiroth heard his own voice bounce harshly off the walls. It would have been a command had not there been a tinge of desperation colouring it into more of a plea. No time to contemplate it now, for the ex-Turk blinked and stilled and actually was _listening_ for once.

"Stay." He repeated, more firmly this time, "There's a bedroom in good condition there with a perfectly serviceable bed. Use it. This once."

At once suspicion and wariness flickered in the ex-Turk's eyes, and Sephiroth tightened his grip and snarled.

"I WILL NOT step foot in there! _Whatever_ you're thinking, I would not...I'm not..." but his voice quickly lost its strength. He was not the madman that Vincent feared, yet at this moment, he could not promise that he will not become him. The blasted Turk was infuriatingly justified in his wariness, as this night had been so kind to prove to Sephiroth. And yet the former general could not help nor explain the strong desire to keep the ex-Turk with him, this night. The whispers were silent for now, for whatever reason, but he did not want to be in a dark, empty room anymore if...when...they come back.

Sephiroth sighed, gathered himself back up again, released his hold on Vincent and stepped back.

The ex-Turk stood still and did not immediately bolt.

"I will be over there..." Sephiroth turned slightly to point at the couch in the living room, "... _Sleeping_." he nearly spat, glaring at Vincent as if daring him to even _think_ that Sephiroth might do anything other than that.

The couch itself might be too small and uncomfortable for a man his height to sleep on, but the plush rug it sat on was thick and soft, and Sephiroth had long used it for his bed. Its position was suitably defensible, with the couch acting as a barrier between him and the glass doors that opened to the porch. And sleeping on the ground, he could sense the vibrations from approaching footsteps long before anyone could reach the suite's front door. For that reason, on the floor was where he liked to sleep, even in the labs, no matter how much Hojo had sneered at him in distain for this "strange habit". And the rough conditions of the war camps in Wutai only meant that he had ample excuse to continue his habit of sleeping on the floor.

With a final glare at the silent ex-Turk, Sephiroth turned his back on him and walked over to the rug. The plush pillows where neatly piled on the couch again, instead of being on the floor, where Sephiroth liked to arrange them. The maids probably had done cleanup here today while the two men were away. They meant well, Sephiroth knew, and the former general appreciated having his living space kept tidy — tidiness and meticulousness had been drilled into him since a very young age. But the pillows really had no use there on the couch. The couch was rarely used, and it was so small that the pillows only served to compete for space with the 6-foot-tall men that might sit there. They were of much more practical use on the floor as part of Sephiroth's "bed".

Impatiently, Sephiroth swept the pillows back onto the floor, arranged them to his liking, and then lay down pointedly amongst them, preparing to sleep, exactly as he said he'd do.

Silence stretched in the small suite for several minutes, neither men moved. Then, Sephiroth heard the sound of Vincent moving away, and he fully expected the ex-Turk to walk out the glass doors and into the forest again. And yet that was not where the sound of his footsteps led. Instead, Vincent went into the bedroom just as Sephiroth had...demanded? Pleaded? And then predictably, came the sound of the door swinging closed. ...Yet Sephiroth didn't hear the sound of it fully closing and clicking into place.

He wasn't naive enough to think that it meant anything though. A closed door was too obvious, too simple — child's play. Vincent wouldn't have trusted it to keep out anything in this palace anyway, including Sephiroth. No doubt the paranoid Turk would have an elaborate defence system sat up in there by morning, and he'd be doing anything _but_ sleeping this whole night, Sephiroth huffed quietly to himself.

Still, the ex-Turk had miraculously gone into that bedroom just as Sephiroth had asked. If the mako-enhanced general really concentrated, he could hear the quiet sounds of Vincent's breathing from within the room.

Vincent would be there, close by, just beyond that slightly open door, paranoid enough to be on guard the entire night, and ready to put a bullet or some other lethal thing into Sephiroth's heart the moment he senses madness in the former general. And somehow, that thought was...macabrely reassuring.

The former general shifted a bit to get into a more comfortable position in his pillows, his back slightly leaning into the solid weight of the couch behind him. He cleared his mind and put all his focus on picking out the sounds of Vincent's soft, steady breaths from the surrounding ambient sounds. The phantom whispers of Jenova hovered at the edge of his consciousness as they always did, but for now, the ex-Turk's presence was closer, and felt more solid, more real.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale... Sephiroth didn't really believe that he would be able to find sleep this night, but nonetheless, he slowly closed his eyes.

 

 

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 **Author's Notes:** Well, it looks like real life is catching up with me and my free time is disappearing. Updates from here on will unfortunately be erratic :P If a chapter ends on a cliffhanger, I'll try my hardest to not leave it for too long, cuz cliffhangers are evil and that would be mean :D


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